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CHATTANOOGA. 



♦ 

■ ' 


0, wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us, 

To see oursels as ithers see us ! 

It wad fra monie a blunder free us, 

And foolish notion, 

What airs in dress an* gait wad lie a* us, 
And e’en Devotion ! — Burns, 


U: 


CINCINNATI: 

WEIGHTSON & COMPANY, PKINTERS, 

167 WALNUT STREET. 







1858 


A • 




1 


* 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year Eighteen Hundred and Fifty- 
Eight, in the Clerk’s OflQicc of the District Court of the United States, for the 
Southern District of Ohio. 

— — I . I .1 ' I ■ .1 — 


BY TRANSFBR 
JUN C ‘907 

! 



CHATTANOOGA. 


CHAPTER I. 

And you think there is no one in this neighborhood 
who can tell me any thing more about this matter.*' 
‘^Not a sitigle soul, as I knows of. I am a stranger 
here myself, now; the old settlers are nearly all gone 
away. Some are dead, and others have moved off; 
I've been in these parts more nor a week, and have 
not seen a single soul yet, as was here when I lived 
hereabouts. They are all gone; I'm a stranger in 
the very place where I lived the longest." 

The persons who were conversing, were a young man, 
who had the keen, inquisitive look of a Yankee book 
pedlar; and a large man, six feet high, whose head, and 
shoulders were a little bent with age; with stiff, white 
hair ; white and bushy eye brows, and large, blue eyes. 
He was dressed in a brown, linsey hunting shirt, fas- 
tened tightly by a belt of black leather — in which was 
placed a large butcher knife — around his waist. He 
had a tame badger, which he was showing for five cents 
a sight. The badger lay quietly at his feet. It had a 
collar around its neck, made, probably, from the red 
top of an old boot, and from that a light iron chain 
extended, by which its owner held it. 


4 


CHATTANOOGA. 


They were seated on a bench at the front door of a 
tavern ; a one story log house, with a porch on the east 
side extending the whole length of the house, in East 
Tennessee, near Chattanooga, and six or seven miles 
west of the Cumberland Mountains. 

Stranger, they are all gone ; and a mighty clever 
set of people they were, too, when I lived hereabouts. 
There were no Railroad here then. The folks were 
old fashioned, clever, sociable people, who would shake 
hands and drink with a poor man as quick as a rich 
one. Them was good times, stranger; every body 
minded his own business, and let every body else mind 
his. 

Stranger, times is altered hereabouii^ since I was 
young. I live on White River, in Arkansas, and I 
thought I Tvould walk back and see how things look 
'‘hereabouts, and find some old friends, and so I brought, 
this here varmint along to pay expenses ; but I ’ve bin 
here more nor a week, and have not seen a single soul 
yet as I knew when I were a young man.’' 

^‘What might your name be, stranger?’' 

^^My name is Hezekiah Strong.'’ 

‘‘Whar might you live, stranger?” 
live in Connecticut," 

Ah ! that 's a great way off, I dare say.” 

^‘Pedling dry goods, hey?" 

‘‘No, sir." > 

“Scourin’ the country for money for people in Phil- 
adelphy, who has sold goods to the merchants here- 
abouts, stranger?” 

“ No, sir." 

“Jist a travelin' for pleasure, then, stranger; may 
be you ’re rich, and can afford it ?” 


CHATTAJ5T00GA. 


5 


'‘No, sir; I came here to hunt up all the facts about 
the matter we have just been talking of. I wish to 
get them all together, and make a book of them. It 
may be'that some people will like to read it.’^ 

“ Make a book ! stranger,’^ said the old man, taking 
off his hat, and jerking the chain by which he held the 
badger; “ Maken a book, stranger. Well, I’ve read 
some books in my life time, but never in all my days 
saw a man as could make one. 

“I had a book ’onst — the life of Marion; he was a 
hero, I tell you ; but I lent it and lent it till at last it 
got lost, and I am mighty sorry for it. 

“Well, stranger, if you’ll put in your book what I’ve 
told you, jest as I told it, you may rely on it, for I’ve 
seen it nearly all myself ; and you may ask any man 
that knows Tom Giles, and he will tell you that his 
word is true as preachin’. 

“Did you ever hear of me before?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Whar, and who told you?’ 

“I have been collecting the facts relating to this 
matter for two years past, and to do so, I have been 
with the Indians west of the Mississippi, and with 
a great many other people. I have traveled a 
great many miles on this errand, and your name 
has some times occurred in the course of my re- 
searches.” 

“Well, stranger, I reckon you never heard any thing 
agin the old man, did you?” 

“ I never have heard any thing against your char- 
acter for truth.” 

“ Give us your hand, stranger,” said the old man 
rising and seizing his hand. “You’re a man arter mj 


6 


CHATTANOOGA. 


own heart ; indeed you are, that ’s a fact. Tom Giles 
is no liar. 

Stranger. All men have their faults, you know ; 
but it not my fault to be a liar. I despise a liar as I 
do a thief. 

‘^Well, stranger, I w*sh you good luck in your book 
makin’ ; indeed I do. It will be a mighty purtty book, 
too, if you put it all down in print jist as it was, you 
know. I tell you them was stirring times, and that 
Grey Eagle was a great fellow, and the rest of them 
people was a brave set. Thar’s no such folks now 
a-days ; the old ones have nearly all died off or moved 
away, and these youngsters, that ’s hereabouts now, 
aint much ; they aint used to hardships like the old 
settlers. 

‘^Well, stranger, if you can’t find any person here 
abouts, who can tell you more of this thing, what will 
you do? Will you gin it up as a bad job?'’ 

‘‘ Oh, no ! I have enough now to make out a full 
history of the matter. I wish to visit the Cave itself, 
and see the other places where these things occurred, 
that I may describe them with accuracy.” 

‘‘ Well, as to that, I am afear’d you’ll be dissapinted, 
because you see that cave is haunted now, so that you 
wouldn’t dare to go in it. No body went in it arter 
that^ you know; beside there’s mighty land slides some 
times in these mountains, and who knows but half a 
mountain has slipped down over the cave and kivered 
it up. 

‘‘Well, stranger, when your book comes out, I do 
wish you’d send tile old man one of ’em. I’d like to 
read them things over. It would do my heart good in 
my old days.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


7 


Where shall I send it Y' 

^‘Send it to Noble’s Post Office, White County, State 
of Arkansaw, to Tom Giles ; and I dl be sure to get it.*' 
go over thar, at least, once every month, and 
always go to the store whar they keep the post office, 
and if thar *s any thing for me, T ’ll get it.” 

You may look for it in three months.” 

*‘Then, stranger, that will be afore I get bacK. I’m 
taken a turn through the country with this here var- 
mint, jest to see what I can make by him. You make 
books mighty fast now days. I thought it took a life 
time to make a book.” 

‘‘It formerly did; but they are made by steam 
now.” 

Tom Giles gave a long whistle. 

“Make books by steam, stranger? Well, that beats 
all natur. I never hearn tell of that afore.” 

“As you are traveling merely for profit, if you will 
stay a few days with me, I will pay you. I have gath- 
ered a great many details from difierent persons, and 
will be glad to read them over to you, so that you may 
correct whatever errors there may be in the story.” 

“What will you give me, stranger?” 

“ What do you think will be a fair compensation for 
your time?” 

“ Indeed, I can ’t say, but some days I can make a 
dollar a day by showing this varmint.” 

“I will give you a dollar a day.” 

“And board me?” 

“Yes, and board you.” 

“It won’t be hard work, will it, stranger?” 

“No; I hope not. You will only have to sit and 
hear me read my notes, and wherever there is any 


8 


CHATTANOOGA. 


mistake in them, tell me of it, so that I may correct 
it.” 

^‘Well, all that seems mighty easy. I’ll do it.” 
am glad of it. This meeting is not entirely an ac- 
cident. I have been following you for several days, and 
when I rode up to the tavern an hour ago, and saw you 
standing at the door, I was sure it was you, from the 
description I had of your person, and stopped to talk 
with you.” 

‘‘Well, stranger, that is strange, to think that you 
would ride so far, and be enquirin’ from time to time 
for such a poor old man as me. But, how did you, 
living way off in Connecticut, ever hear any thing 
about this affair?” 

“I was clerk in a dry goods store, and one day 
picked up an old newspaper, from which I got part of 
the story. I became so much interested in it, that I 
wrote to several persons, who were named in the paper, 
for further information ; only one of my letters was 
answered. I kept up a correspondence with the person 
who replied to me, until I got the names and places of 
residence of several others, who also knew parts of the 
matter. At last I determined to travel, and collect all 
the information I could upon the subject, and make, if 
I can, a book of it.” 

“Well, stranger, there was something put out about 
it in the papers; but, people hereabouts, thought it 
was best not to be printing it, and so it stopped.” 

Our travelers now seated themselves in a small, back 
room in the tavern, and Mr. Strong took from his saddle 
bags a large roll of papers — some in whole sheets, others 
in scraps, and began to read them. 


CHAPTEE II. 


It is an old time’s story which we are about to tell. 
The actors in it, with but few exceptions, are dead. 
Some, indeed, remain among the settlers on the moun- 
tain sides, and in the deep forests, and among the 
Indians, now west of the Mississippi. These Indians 
still keep the tale, as a tradition, among them, and, 
perhaps, will hand it down from generation to genera- 
tion, as long as their tribes remain. It is these old 
traditions, and half-forgotten narratives, that we wish 
now to reunite, as a Mason does his materials, until the 
tale shall be told. 

We would be glad if an abler pen than ours would 
give form and shape, and if it can be done with mate- 
rials so rude, beauty to the structure ; but, in our 
country, so fruitful in tales of romantic interest, such 
pens already find full employment in arranging mate- 
rials already before them. Unless, therefore, we shall 
preserve the story, the whole of these fragments may 
be lost and forgotten forever. 

‘^Stop a bit thar, squire,” said Tom Giles; “I don’t 
like that, because I 'm sure you can do the thing up as 
good as any body ; and, squire, that thar beginnin’ is a 
leattle too much like a sarmon for me. You know the 
bargain is, that I am to pint out all mistakes, so that 
you will have it exactly right.” 

‘’Yes, sir.” 

“Well, go on squire. I jest stopped you a leattle. 


10 


CHATTANOOGA. 


A dollar a day and board is good wages, and I want to 
yearn my money.” 

Richard Rashleigh was a gentleman of good family, 
and ample fortune in the west of England. He had 
read Rosseau's Social Contract, and Sydney on Gov- 
ernment, and other books of that kind, until republi- 
canism became, with him, first a principle, and then a 
passion. He loved to talk of the beauties of a repub- 
lican form of government, of the natural equality of 
man, the right of the people to make their own laws, 
and to govern themselves. He declaimed against mon- 
archies and aristocracies. In England he found few 
persons who heartily sympathised with him ; he, there- 
fore, in despair, resolved to quit his native land forever, 
and to remove to the United States, where his theories 
were already formed into constitutions and laws, and 
where he was sure of finding a whole people, whose prin- 
ciples and practice were in harmony with his own. 

He sent out an agent to purchase a plantation for 
him, with instructions to find one in the mild climate 
of some of the southern States, west of the Alleghanies, 
where conventionalism had not yet exerted its power, 
to check the natural freedom of society, and destroy itjSi 
simplicity. 

His agent found a plantation in East Tennessee, 
bounded on its three sides by the Tennessee River, 
where it forms what is called a horse shoe,” that ex- 
tended nearly around it. A large part of the planta- 
tion had already been cleared by a planter (an^his 
slaves,) who wished to return to North Carolina, his 
native State, and, therefore, availed himself ^^the 
opportunity to sell it low, for cash. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


11 


^^That/s all right, squire; the plaAt^iA aame was 
Tom Yardley; he came from the forks of tke Yadkin, 
six years before he sold out to Rashleigh. And a bad 
job it was for the settlement when he sold out to him. 
‘^Go on, squire. Are you most done?^' 

The agent built a house for Mr. Rashleigh, accord- 
ing to a plan which he brought with him. It was situ- 
ated on a hill, which rose gently from the river. 

‘‘Squire,’* said Giles, interrupting him, “that was 
the queerest looking house that ever mortal man laid 
eyes on. It was a brick one, with great, square things 
at each side, that they called towers, and big, old fash- 
ioned windows, and a thing on the top, like the place 
they hang bells on in court houses, and big taverns. 
Yes, it did front to the north; and it was a dreadful eye 
sore to the whole settlement, until it was burnt down. 
Go on, squire.*' 

“Mr. Rashleigh sold out his land and stocks in Eng- 
land, and, in due time, with a retinue of faithful ser- 
vants, who followed him, came to his new home.** 

“ Squire, he brought four men with him for farmers, 
and three men to wait on him about the house, and one 
fat old fellow named Jinks, to drive his carriage, and a 
whole parcel of women, and furniture enough for a 
hundred families. Indeed he did, squire.** 

East of his place of residence, was the large country 
inhabited by the Cherokee Indians, and at intervals for 
twenty or thirty miles v/est of him, were planters, 
squatters, and other settlers, who had recently removed 
to the fertile lands on the Tennessee River. 

About the same time that Mr. Rashleigh came 
there, Edward Norton, a young man, nearly thirty years 
of age, removed with his slaves from North Carolina to 


12 


CHATTANOOGA. 


a plantation two miles below that of Mr. Rashleigh’s, 
on the Tennessee River. 

“ Stop thar, squire ; that 's not right. Rashleigh 
came in the fall, and Norton did not get to his place 
till the next spring arterwards. If you want this old 
man to back your book, you must have the thing all 
right to a tee, or you 'll never git him to do it." 

Business called Norton to Charlestown soon after 
he had settled on his plantation. He had some friends 
among the young men of that city, in whose company 
the hours flew rapidly, until the time had nearly arrived 
when he should return. 

Before he did so, he and some of his friends, while 
sauntering one morning about the city, came to an auc- 
tion for slaves. The house in which it was held, was a 
low, one story frame building — one of a long row of 
such houses on the south side of the street. The roof 
was covered with green moss, and the weather-boarding, 
once white, was discolored by age and smoke. A crowd 
of persons was standing in the house. The auctioneer 
stood on a low platform on the south side of the room, 
while he was conducting the sale. Near it was 
another platform, higher than the first, ten or twelve 
feet long, and five or six feet wide, on which stood the 
slaves, as they were sold. A large desk stood on the 
floor, at which a clerk was seated, making entries of 
the sales. The desk and platforms were separated by 
a low, wooden railing from the other part of the room. 
Old barrels, and boxes, and broken chairs, ranged 
against the wall, served for seats for such of the spec- 
tators as chose to use them. 

When Norton and his friends went in, there was a 
general hum of conversation among the dense crowd 


CHATTANOOGA. 


13 


outside of the railing. Three Frenchmen, two or three 
Spaniards, and several men in drab overcoats, that ex- 
tended nearly to their heels, were nearest the stand of 
the auctioneer, and appeared to be more interested than 
the others, in the sales. 

After a delay of not more than a minute, the auc- 
tioneer called out: ^‘Now, gentlemen, I am going to 
offer you something worth bidding for. Here she 
comes, gentlemen. 

‘‘Help her up here, Jim;” speaking to a black man, 
a servant at the place, “help her up quick. The gen- 
tlemen here want to look at her.” 

A girl, about sixteen years of age, was placed upon 
the stand. She had on her a coarse, calico dress, which 
was torn and soiled ; an old worn out flipper on one 
foot, and a stocking, full of holes, on the other. Her 
coarse, black hair hung over her face and neck — 
uncombed and uncared for. 

“Look at her, gentlemen, did you ever see such a 
figure, sylph-like and graceful. Many a rich lady 
would give half her fortune if she could buy for herself 
such a shape as that.” 

The girl trembled, turned her face to the wall, and 
covered it with her hands. 

“Come, what’s your name? Ah! I see it on the 
catalogue. Come, Huldah, modesty is a good thing in 
its place, but you must turn round and let the gentle- 
men have a good look at you.” And he turned her 
face to the crowd, and made her take her hands 
froni it. 

‘^I ask you to look at this face, gentlemen. See 
what large, lustrous, black eyes, and what even, pearly 
teeth. Did you ever see such before ? 


14 


<5flATTAN00C: A. 


^^Who j:M.tiainen? I can’t wait; indeed I 

can ’t. I have twenty -two rcore to sell to-day.” 

Eight hundred dcMew'/’ said one of the French- 
men. 

Thank you, Mr. De Coijr^y, hut I can’t start with 
such a bid as that. 

Why, look at this girl, gentieiv^Cvi. She is nearly 
white; her hair is straight, and see \^hat glossy black 
ness it has; warranted sound, gentJenav'^Up or no &ale. 

‘^Who bids?” 

‘^Nine hundred dollars,” said one n!! the Spanish 
gentlemen. 

“Thank you, sir. Nine hundred dollars k bid; onlj 
nine hundred for positively the most beautiful grvi thai 
ever stood on this block. Indeed, gentlemen, I nevei 
saw so beautiful a creature before. Nine hundred dol 
lars ; going at nine hundred. 

“It ’s a shame, gentlemen ; indeed it is. Why, onlj 
last week I sold two girls, neither of them, half s« 
pretty as this, to two mechanics of this city ; one oi 
them, a bricklayer, gave a thousand dollars for one of 
the girls, and the other, a shoemaker, gave eleven 
hundred for the other ; and will you, young planters, let 
them out bid you, where such a beauty as this is for sale f 
Positively I am ashamed of you, gentlemen.” 

A low ^.oah was heard. It seemed to come from 
one of the spectators at the west end of the room. 

“Did you hear that groan, gentlemen? It was foi 
your want of chivalry and taste. Indeed I am readip 
to groan for you, myself.” 

Another and louder groan was heard. 

“Thank you, sir; you ought to be groaned at, gen 
tlemen. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


15 


‘^Nine hundred dollars only is bid. I can’t dwell, 
gentlemen; indeed I can’t. Make up your minds 
soon.” 

“Nine hundred and five dollars,” said one of the men 
dressed in drab overcoats. 

“.Thank you, sir ; but we can’t take five dollar bids 
here. We can’t waste our time on such trifles. Shall 
I say nine hundred and fifty, sir ?” 

The man, in a drab overcoat, seemed very much 
ashamed of himself, and after a short pause, and with a 
look of some embarrassment, said, “Yes, sir.” 

“ Nine hundred and fifty dollars is bid. Only nine 
hundred and fifty dollars for the most beautiful girl 
that ever stood on this auction block, gentlemen. 

“ Why look at her, gentlemen ; see how the damask 
rose blooms on her downy cheek. See what thin and 
lovely lips she has ; see, too, how modest she is. Mod- 
esty, gentlemen, is an excellent thing in woman. We 
love it in our mothers and sisters.” 

Another groan was heard — deep and sad. 

“ Go round their, Jim. May be some gentleman has 
the colic, and something should be done for him. 

“I can’t dwell, gentlemen; indeed I can’t. 

“Who bids ?” 

“ One thousand,” said Mr. De Courcy. 

“ Thank you, sir. You have an eye foso i:.s?auty, sir. 
I like your fine taste. 

“A thousand dollars is bid, gentlemen. Going for 
only a thousand dollars. A girl of sweet sixteen — just 
blooming into womanhood, nearly white. 

“Turn round, Huldah; walk across the platform, and 
let the gentlemen see your movements. 

“See there, gentlemen, graceful as a swan; how 


16 


CHATTANOOGA. 


lightly she steps, and see what small feet and hands 
she has ; what small, delicate ears, and what a beau- 
tiful nose, and mouth, and chin. See what limbs she 
has, gentlemen, as white as any persons ; how grace- 
fully they taper down to her small feet. She comes 
from Virginia, gentlemen, and I have no doubt at all, 
but, of course, I can’t warrant it, that some of the blood 
in her veins, is of the best in the old Dominion. 

‘‘Who bids, gentlemen; only a thousand dollars, and 
she has been not less than five minutes on the stand.” 

“A thousand and fifty,” said the gentleman in a 
drab overcoat, who seemed now to have gotten over his 
embarrassment. 

“A thousand and fifty dollars is bid. Going at only 
a thousand and fifty dollars.” “Ah ! sir,” said the auc- 
tioneer, looking at the man in a drab overcoat, “ I see 
you know what you are about. What an investment 
for a man of capital. There never has been such a 
bargain oflrered here before.” 

“Eleven hundred,” said a voice not before heard in 
the bidding. 

“Thank you, sir. Please come up nearer to the 
stand, that we may see the bidders. Eleven hundred 
dollars.” 

“And fifty,” said the Frenchman. 

“Twelve hundred dollars,” said Norton, who had now 
come forward to the railing. 

“Twelve hundred dollars, and no more, gentlemen. 
I am, positively, ashamed to sacrifice such property at 
these rates; but we can’t dwell. 

“Twelve hundred dollars, going, going — gone^ He 
brought his hammer heavily upon the table as he ut- 
tered the word ‘‘gone)'' and, at the same time, a gro?^ 


CHATTANOOGA. I'f 

was heard louder and deeper than any that had been 
heard there before. 

“ Sare/' said the French gentleman, bowing to Nor- 
ton, “ I do congratulate you on one fine bargain. Ver 
cheap indeed, and ver pretty. I do like your fine taste, 
sare.** 

Thank you,’’ said Norton. 

‘‘Your name, sir,” said the auctioneer, bowing to 
Norton, “ if you please.” 

“Edward Norton.” 

“Please come within the railing, to the desk, Mr. 
Norton, and the clerk will give you a bill of sale, and a 
receipt for the purchase money. 

“Will you take the negro away to-day? or, if you 
prefer it, we can keep the property, for a few days, in 
our jail.” 

“I wdll take her now, sir.” 

Norton went to the clerk, paid the purchase money, 
and received the bill of sale. 

While he was doing so, the auctioneer said : “ Jim, 
bring out No. four.” 

Number four was brought out. He w%s an old man, 
very black ; his hair was slightly marked with gray. 

“ Stand up, old fellow, on the block,” said the auc- 
tioneer. 

“’Ef you please, master, excuse me. I am an old 
man — old enough to be your father.” 

Another groan, not loud, but low and sad, was heard. 

“Who is that making this strange music in this 
room? I thank the gentleman, whoever he may be, 
but too much of a good thing is worse than none at all. 
Get up on the block, old man.” 

“Master, please excuse me. My mistress, in ole 

2 


18 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Virginny, was a widow, and I was her foreman for 
twenty years. She never found any fault with me. 
We made good crops and got along well till she died, 
and I was sold four weeks ago by the 'ministrator. 
^‘’Ef I must be sold,’’ said the old man, bursting into 
tears, ^‘let me set down and be sold like a man, and 
not like a beast.” 

Oh, Thomas ! Thomas !” said an old man, dressed 
as a Quaker, who rose to his feet from the west end of 
the room, and burst into tears; ‘‘Oh, Thomas! what a 
business is this in which thou art engaged?” 

The old man, whose broad hat half covered his face 
advanced to the railing. 

“Oh! Thomas,” said the old man, “I have not seen 
thee for ten years, and now to find thee here in this 
den' of sin.” 

The auctioneer turned pale ; his hammer trembled 
in his hand, his limbs, his whole person shook. 

“Father !” 

“Do not call me father here — my lost son.” 

“Father!” 

The old man shook his head. “Thomas, I always 
heard that word from thee with gladness when thou 
wast an innocent boy. Do not use it here.” 

“ Father,” said the auctioneer, still trembling. 

“ I am not thy father. I never will own, as a son, 
a slave seller, nor a slave buyer. Thou hast disgraced 
an ancient and honorable name. Thou art an apostate 
from the faith of thy fathers,” and, raising his hand 
upward, “from thy father in heaven.” 

“ The old gentleman is somewhat excited,” said Mr. 
De Courcy, to a man at his side. “ Quite a scene here, 
indeed. Almost a tragedy, sir.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


19 


^‘Dld you hear what the old fellow said/' asked one 
of the drab coat men, turning to another dressed in the 
same garb. 

^‘No ; not particularly/' was the reply. 

^^Why, sir, he actually called this a den of sin. I 
heard him with my own ears and can not be mistaken 
about it. He classed slave buyers too, with slave 
sellers. It is a gross and open insult. I can't stand it." 

This was said so loudly, that all who were in the room 
heard it. The crowd became instantly excited and 
moved toward the Quaker. Take him out. Tar and 
feather him. No apology can be made for such insults 
to gentlemen." 

Tom Gilbert, the auctioneer, who had stepped off the 
stand but a moment before, now leaped upon it. 

Look here, men ! This man is my father. The 
first man of you that lays the weight of a finger on him, 
or who utters another insulting word, gets the whole 
contents of this," taking from a drawer before him a 
large horse pistol ; “ and this," showing another from 
the same drawer, and as many more as will satisfy 
him." 

^‘Gentlemen, the sale for to-day is over. We'll close 
the doors, if you please." 

don't know any thing about that sale," said Tom 
Giles, and what I don't know, in course you can’t 
expect me to tell. I 've seen the girl a thousand times 
arter she were brought home, and she was as pretty 
a nigger as ever I sot eyes on. Jest such a gal as the 
auctioneer said she was ; and I did hear, too, there was 
some kind of fuss at the auction, and that she was the 
last that auctioneer ever sold; but that’s only hear- 
say, mind you, don’t set it down for a fact. But, 


20 


CHATTANOOGA. 


there ’s one thing I can tell you, squire, that you ought 
to know, and as you come from Connecticut, I ’spose, 
in reason you don't know it. It will never do to put 
niggers in your book along with white folks. I um con- 
scientiously and tee-totally forninst it. Indeed I am.'^ 

‘^What shall I do, then?’' said Mr. Strong. ‘‘This, 
you know, is a part of the story, and this girl must 
often be mentioned in it.” 

“I don't know, indeed I don’t, squire, how you can 
fix it. But, it seems to me you had better have a kind 
of kitchen to your book, and put all the niggers in that. 
Can’t you have something at the eend of the book — a 
kind of quarter like, for the niggers?” 

“And the Indians, also?'’ said Strong; “for, you 
know that Gray Eagle and some other Indians must be 
mentioned.” 

“No, squire, not the red skins; you can mix them 
with white folks. But, as for putting niggers along 
side white people, I am conscientiously and tee-totally 
forninst it. Indeed, I am. But, squire, I can excuse 
you for this, bein’ as you come from Connecticut, whar, 
in course, the people don’t know no better. 

“Squire, I’ve seen books that are like houses with 
closets and cupboards all over ’em. Can’t you have kind 
of closets to your book?” 

“I don’t understand you,” said Strong. 

“ Why, down at the bottom of 'em are places for 
things not fit to be in the room.” 

“ Notes ?” 

“T s'pose so, squire. Put all about Huldah in 
the notes at the bottom, and then, them that likes 
to read it can do so or not, jest as they please. 

“ Go on, squire.” 


CHAPTEK III. 


The apartment from which the slaves were brought 
into the auction room, was separated from it by a par- 
tition of thin boards. A door, near to the clerk's desk, 
opened into it, and Norton, as soon as he had paid for 
Huldah, went into this place for her. 

It was fT long, narrow, and badly lighted room, with 
but three windows, which were square and near the 
ceiling, on the south side, and secured by iron bars. 
They were covered with cobwebs and dust; each window 
was about two feet long, and two wide. The room was 
sunk below the surface of the ground, except near the 
windows, and rough boards, brown with smoke and age, 
were nailed upright against the walls, all around it. 
Some wooden benches stood by the sides of the walls, 
and on these were seated about twenty slaves, brought 
there for the sale of that day. 

Two coarse looking white men, with red faces, and 
canes in their hands, and pistols in their coat pockets, 
were sometimes w’alking up and down the room, and at 
other times standing in the middle of it, talking to each 
other. 

As soon as Norton entered, he paused and looked 
around the place. The old man who had be^ offered 
for sale was seated at the east end of the room, near 
the door, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his 
face covered with his hands. He raised his head as 
Norton passed before him, and sat upright for a minute, 


22 


CHATTANOOGA. 


and then his chin dropped upon his breast, and hisr 
hands hung, feebly and listlessly, by his side. There 
was, in his face, deep, calm sorrow, without a gleam of 
hope — glooming into despair. It told the story of a life 
of fidelity and meekness ; sometimes cheered by a sin- 
gle ray of hope, as of a little star shining alone a1 
midnight, when all else is thickly covered with blacl 
clouds and darkness — and that light was slowly — slowlj 
fading away — and almost gone. 

His looks were those of one who is trying to remem- 
ber some shadowy dream of hope or joy. His dream 
of life was nearly over, and it was a sad aj^d troubled 
dream. The dim light from the window shed a passing 
gleam over his dark features, and then a cloud came 
across the sun, and the old man sat in shadow. A 
faint and almost inaudible sigh escaped from him, as 
he changed his position and leaned his head against 
the wall. 

Norton gazed at him for a moment, and passed^ 
on. 

A large and tall mulatto woman was seated on the 
floor, on the south side of the room, with her head 
lying upon the bench by her side, and the end of a 
shawl thrown over her face. She was motionless till 
the sound of Norton’s footsteps, as he approached, 
aroused her, and she raised her head and supported it 
by one hand, while she leaned with her elbow upon the 
bench. Her jet, black hair was nearly Straight, and 
half covered her features. 

Are you for sale ?” 

^‘Yes, sir. I’se bin brought in here from the jail 
to-day.” 

‘‘Are you willing to be sold?” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


23 


The woman looked at Norton with glazed and half 
frenzied eyes, and repeated. 

Willing to be sold?’' 

‘‘Willing to be sold?" and then paused and looked 
him steadily in the face. 

“Willing to be sold?” she added; ^yilling to be 
sold from my husband — my children and all that I love 
in this world?” and covering her face with her hands, 
burst into an agony of passionate grief. 

“Oh, God!” said she, as she sobbed, “how can a 
human being be willing to be sold like a beast.” 

One of the white men came up and said : “Stop that 
noise, we must have order here.” 

The man turned to Norton : “We 've got a fine lot of 
niggers for sale here — a choice lot. That old man by 
the door, that you have just been looking at, is trusty 
and will make a first-rate foreman on a plantation, and 
this here woman is a good cook and washer, and ironer, 
and a good housekeeper. Let me show you, sarr, some 
of the rest of ’em. There never was a finer lot brought 
into this market than is here to-day.” 

“Thank you, I have purchased a girl to-day, and 
have come in for her. I do not want any more.” 

“All right, sarr. We make it a rule not to press 
gentlemen to buy. It 's not polite to do so, sarr. 
We’ve sold only one girl to-day. No. 3, on the cata- 
logue ; thar she is in that corner,” pointing to the 
south-west corner of the room. 

Not far from Norton, was a stout, black man, about 
thirty years of age, dressed in a shirt and pantaloons 
of coarse, white cotton cloth, and without hat or shoes. 
The front of his head was bald ; he had a surly look. 

“You are for sale, I suppose?” 


CHATTANOOaA. 


24 “^ 

^^Yes, masser.’’ 

^^You dont seem to care for it.” 

^^No, not much ; none as I knows of. It don’t make 
no difference to me who owns me or who don t own me. 
I’ve got to do all the work I can, and they is got to 
give me as much to eat and warr as will keep soul and 
body together any how.” 

^‘1 suppose you have been sold before?” 

‘‘Yes, I’se bin sold a dozen times; may be more.” 

“Are you married?” 

“Yes, masser, I’se had four wives.” 

“Where are they?” 

“ Don’t know ; scattered ’bout here and thar in places 
whar I’se bin. Maybe some is dead now.” 

“ Have you children ?” 

“I’se had seven children, but don’t know what’s 
^come of ’em ; maybe some is sold down south. I ’se 
not seen one of ’em for two years, and never spect to 
see ’em again.” 

“You don’t seem to care much at your separation 
from them ?” 

“No; what’s the use of taking on? It won’t help 
me nor them ; ’ef I was to cry myself to death, I can 
not see any of ’em, nor do ’em any good.” 

• The other guard now come up to Norton, and touch- 
ing his hat, said : “A fine lot for sale here to-day, sir. 
This woman,” pointing to one who was opposite them 
seated upright on the bench, “ is a capital cook, and 
will make a good field hand if you want one. She can 
do as much hoeing or plowing in a day as a man ; and 
is kind and good tempered. Look up Sally at the gen- , 
tleman.” 

Tlj^ woman rose an* jame toward them. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


25 


^^Buj me, massa. I’m afear’d I’ll be bought by tbe 
speculators, and used bad. I likes your looks, and is 
sure you ’ll be good to me.” 

“I can not do so. I’ve no money to spare, and did 
not come here to buy.” 

“ Oh ! don’t say so massa. White gentlemen always 
has money enough when they wants to buy colored 
people. I ’m sure young master can do it, ’ef he only 
will ; and I ’ll be a good servant to you. I can sew, 
and wash, and iron, and do any kind of in-door work, 
but I aint used to worken out doors in the field, and 
I ’se afear’d I ’m too old to learn now.” 

I can not purchase you. I hope Sally you ’ll get a 
good master.” 

‘‘Thank you. God bless you, master,” said Sally, 
dropping a low courtesy, and taking her seat. 

Huldah was still seated in the corner. Her mother, 
with a young child in her arms, was standing half bent 
over her. A little boy, about five years old, and a tall, 
handsome and intelligent looking mulatto man, appa- 
rently about twenty-five years of age, both of them her 
brothers, were standing before her. 

Norton sat down by the side of Huldah. 

“ Huldah, I have bought you.” 

“Yes, masser.” 

“ I have come for you. I want you to go with me.” 

“Yes, masser,” said Huldah, faintly, dropping her 
head. 

“ I will be a kind master, if you will be a faithful 
servant.” 

“Yes, masser.” 

“Are you willing to go with me, Huldah?” 

“Yes, masser.” 

3 


26 


CHi^TTANOOGA. 


get your bundle and come along with 

me/’ 

‘‘Oh, master/’ said the mother, do buy the rest of 
us. Don’t part us ; don’t part what ’s left of us, mas- 
ter ; for God’s sake, please don’t master.” 

“ I did not know when I bid for her that she had a 
•mother and brothers for sale, or, perhaps, I would not 
have done so ; but, it ’s too late now, I ’ve bought and 
paid for her.” 

“Do, master, buy us, and keep us all together,” said 
the older brother; “my mother is a good servant. We 
are all healthy and will be obedient. You ’ll not lose a 
cent by us.” 

“I have no money to spare. I do not want any 
more servants. I have as many now as I know what to 
do with.” 

“Oh, master!” said the mother, “don’t part us; 
please don’t part what’s left of us. Some of us has bin 
parted already; do please, master, keep us together, for 
God’s sake, master, do. It’s mighty hard to tear a 
mother from her own child. Don’t tear my own child 
away from me.” 

“ I have no money to buy you.” 

“Master, can’t you contrive some way for us all to 
be sold together. It seems like it would tear my heart 
out to part me from my own child.” 

“I can not buy you. It is useless to urge me. I 
will be a good, kind master, if Huldah will be a faithful 
servant.” 

“ She always has been a good child, master, and can 
do any thing most ’bout the house. She’s got no bad 
ways. Do be good to her, and God will bless you, 
master. Can’t you let her stay here with us a day or 


CHATTANOOGA. 27 

two longer ? It seems so sudden-like to part from lier, 
now.’’ 

No ; my passage in the stage is already paid, and I 
leave soon after dinner.” Norton told them his name, 
and where he lived. 

“Come, Huldah!” 

Huldah rose — her little brother grasped her torn dress 
with both his hands, and leaned his head closely against 
her side. 

“Let go, Benny. I must go with new master.” 

Ben looked eagerly in her face, still grasping her 
dress. 

“You aint going now, Huldah! is you, Huldah?” 

“Yes, Benny.” 

Ben leaned his head against her and cried bitterly. 

The color fled from the lips and face of Huldah as 
she extended her hand — “ Good-by, mother.” 

Her mother held her babe in one arm, and placed 
the other on Huldah’s shoulder, gazed in her face, and 
burst into a frantic wail of grief. “ Oh ! my child, my 
child, we parts now forever.” She released her grasp. 
“It’s no use, Huldah, we ’se got to part.” 

Huldah wiped her eyes with her dress, and extended 
her trembling hand to her eldest brother. 

“Good-by, Isaac.” 

Isaac’s upper lip quivered; a slight tremor passed 
over his person ; he stooped and kissed her — “ Good-by, 
sister.” 

“ Mother, let me take little Lizzie in my arms afore I 
go, and nuss her once more.” 

Her mother handed the* babe to Huldah. She took 
it and sat below a window, laid it on her lap, and gazed 
earnestly at it, and then passed her hand gently over 


28 


CHATTANOOGA. 


its face. The child stretched out its little hands and 
laughed, and then became sad and cried. Huldah 
pressed it to her bosom. 

^‘Come, Huldah, we must go no'w.’’ 

She handed the child to its mother; took from be- 
neath the seat a small bundle, tied in a check apron, 
paused for an instant, and looked back at the group as 
she reached the open door. The door closed behind her, 
and the wail of her mother was no longer heard. 

She followed Norton as he walked along the street 
to his hotel, with a torn slipper on one foot, and a 
ragged stocking on the other, her dress flying in the 
wind, carrying her little bundle in one hand, while, 
with the other, she wiped the tears from her face. 


CHAPTEK lY. 


I While Norton was at Charleston, some of the inci- 
dents connected with our story took place in his neigh- 
borhood in Tennessee. 

About half a mile from the dwelling of Mr. Rashleigh, 
on the south bank of the Toiyiessee River, stood a log 
cabin with but one room, in which lived a certain Tom 
' Giles, and his large family. 

“That’s me,” said the old man, striking his large 
fist heavily on the table at which they were sitting: 
“ That ’s me as sure as shootin’, and that large family 
was Polly and the young ’uns. Push on, squire, I want 
I to hear what "s a cornin’.” 

Giles and his wife, and other members of his family 
often visited Mr. Rashleigh’s dwelling. 

“In course,” said Tom, “bein’ as they war our 
Highest neighbors.” 

At day break, one Saturday morning, a loud knock- 
' ing was heard at the front door of Rashleigh’s house. 

[ It was opened by a servant. 

“Is the captin at home?” said Tom Giles. 

“The captain!” said the servant; “What captain?” 

[ “I mean the old ’un ; the boss.” 

“ Maybe you want the gardener. He is not up yet, 
I believe ; but if you will go round to his lodge, back of 
the house, you can find him.” 

“No; I don’t want him — nor the likes of him. I 


30 


CHATTANOOGA. 


want to see the owner of this here place ; the head 
captin.” 

‘^He is not up yet/' 

What ! not out of bed yet, and the sun half an hour 
high ? I want you jest to step up to him and tell him 
to come down here, for I 'm in a hurry/' 

do not like to disturb him. Will you please wait 
a few minutes? He is an early riser." 

‘‘No; I can’t wait a minute. Tell him to come down 
right away." 

“What name, sir," said the servant. 

“Name! Don’t you know my name ? I am your 
Highest neighbor — Tom Giles.’' 

The servant went up stairs, and came back, saying: 
“Mr. Eashleigh wdll be down in a few minutes, sir. 
Please take a seat in the hall till he comes.’’ 

Giles seated himself — took olF his hat and laid it on 
the floor — looked up at the ceiling, and then at every 
thing else within his view^ 

After he had w^aited a few minutes, he became impa- 
tient, got up and w^ent to the room the j^ervant had 
gone into. 

^ He opened the door just wide enough to get his head 
in, and said: “The captin’s mighty slow about cornin’; 
maybe he 's turned over and tuk another nap. T wish 
you would go up and give him a good shaking; tell him 
to come quick, cause I ’m in a great hurry." 

The servant looked amazed. Tom opened the door 
and walked up to him. In a half whisper; he inquired, 
“Is he dangerous? Is he hard on his people?" 

“No," said the servant, “he is very kind — wait a 
little longer and he will be down." 


CHATTANOOGA. 


31 


“ Gettin’ ready for breakfast, eh ? What a nice 
pewter mug this is;’’ taking up the cream cup and 
holding it close to his face. Lots of pewter here, and 
so bright, too!” 

‘‘It ’s silver,” said the servant. 

“ Silver 1” said Giles, “ Silver 1 Eat off of silver — 
well, that ’s grand. But, hurry up starrs, old, boy, and 
tell the captin, Tom Giles is a waitin’ for him.” 

Mr. Bashleigh at this moment entered the room and 
bowed to his neighbor. 

“ Good’ mornin’, Captin. Glad to see you; hope 
you ’re well,” said Tom Giles, extending his hand, 
which Mr. Rashleigh took, as he bid Giles be seated. 

“No, thank you, captin; I’m in something of a 
hurry. I stepped over to ask a favor of you this 
mornin’.” 

“ I shall be happy to be of service to you, neighbor,” 
said Mr. Rashleigh. “What can I do for you?” 

“ Why, you see, captin, my wife has seen you a riden 
round in that nice carriage of yours, and she ’s took a 
notion to take a ride in it herself. I want you to lend 
it to me to-day, to take Polly and the children to Camp 
Meetin’. We’ll be back a little arter sun down, and 
I’ll take some corn along in a bag to feed your horses.” 

Mr. Rashleigh raised his eyebrows, and looked some- 
what surprised, when Tom Giles proceeded : “ There ’s 
eight of us ; me and Polly and the six children, but I 
can squeeze ’em all in, captin.” 

“My dear sir,” said Mr. Rashleigh, “I greatly regret 
to refuse you, but really I can not lend my carriage.” 

“ What I not lend it to a neighbor to go to meetin’ — 
to Camp Meetin’?” 

“No, sir. I wish to be on good terms with my neigh- 


32 


CHATTANOOGA. 


bors, and to oblige them whenever I can; but really, 
sir, I am somewhat surprised at such a request.'^ 

Well, captin, no harm’s done. We must all go a foot 
though its six miles, and Polly is rather weakly, she^s 
got a crick in her back. We might a bin thar afore 
this, ’ef I had not a bin kept a waitin^ on you so long.’’ 

‘‘I am sorry, sir, that you have been detained,” said 
Rashleigh. 

‘‘Good mornin’, captin.” Mr. Rashleigh bowed to 
his neighbor, and the servant accompanied Giles to the 
door. 

“ I don’t see any use for puttin’ that in your book, 
squire; it’s all straight enough. I’d most forget it, 
but now it’s fresh in my mind.” 

“It has something to do with the book,” said Mr. 
Stone. 

“Well, well, squire, let it stand then. Nobody that 
will read the book knows me, and I don’t care. It ’s 
true, any how.” 

From the time the agent purchased the plantation 
till within a few months of the day when Rashleigh was 
favored by the visit from Tom Giles, there had been a 
large and constant expenditure of money on behalf of 
Rashleigh. The men who were employed to build the 
house, and the families, which some of them brought 
with them, purchased their supplies of food from the 
neighbors ; and after the buildings were completed, the 
large family of Rashleigh were dependent, principally, 
upon the neighborhood for their provisions. These 
were paid for, generally, in gold ; and this new and 
ready market was of great service to the neighorhood. 
In addition to this, the riches of Mr. Rashleigh — his 
fine furniture and horses, and white servants, were the 


CHATTANOOGA. 


33 


stibject of conversation for miles around his dwelling. 
But the topic had lost its novelty and interest, and as 
Kashleigh’s plantation now yielded ample supplies for 
the household — the golden stream, whose little rills had 
gladdened many hearts, had now almost ceased to flow. 
While the business of preparing to live was going on, 
Mr. Eashleigh was often among his neighbors ; his 
urbane manners, and still more his prompt payment of 
such prices as his neighbors chose to ask, made him 
many friends. He, now, when it was no longer neces- 
sary for him to go abroad, confined himself, with rare 
exceptions, to his plantation. 

There is a point, in some men’s lives, where popu- 
larity ceases and public displeasure begins, and his 
refusing to lend his carriage to Tom Giles, was that 
point in the life of Rashleigh. 

When Giles and his family got to the Camp Meeting, 
he first took his wife and children to the tent of an 
acquaintance, and then, without stopping to rest for a 
moment, went outside to a wagon filled with water 
mellons, around which was a group of his asso- 
ciates. 

say men, this here fellow that ’s squatted down 
among us, is ’t the right sort of a man. I jest went over 
to his house this mornin* to borrer his carriage to come 
to Camp Meetin', cause Polly, you see, has got a pain 
in her back, and thought she ’d like to ride in the thing. 
Well, when I got thar, though it was arter sun up, 
the fellow was in bed. I sent word to him to come 
down quick, but he kept me a waitin’, I don’t know 
how long. While I was thar, I just went into the room, 
and on the table thar was lots of silver things ; one for 
milk, and one for sugar, and half a dozen more. When 


34 


CHATTANOOGA. 


he did come at last, I axed him perlitely and neigh- 
borly, for the loan of the thing only for a day — and 
don’t you think he would ’t let me have it ; for all he 
aint a goin’ to use it himself to-day, and hardly ever 
rides in it.” 

‘‘Maybe it was out of order,” said one of the men. 
“ Maybe a wheel was broke, or something like that.” 

“ No ; nothin’ of that sort, cause you see if it had 
been, he ’d of said so ; he was mighty smoothe and 
seemed afear’d to rile me.” 

“It’s a shame,” said one of the men. “It’s not 
neighborly. I would not have believed it of him if you 
had ’t of told me, Mr. Giles ; we have never had sich 
doings in our settlement afore. Things has ahvays 
been better regulated here than that. He ’s an aris- 
tocrat.” 

“I tell you what it is,” said Bill Gaines, “from the 
first minute I laid eyes on that man, I set him down for 
an aristocrat, and I have not changed my mind about 
him yet.” 

“ Thar ’s no mistake about it,’^ said Ned Allen, “ I 
always suspected, and now I know it.” 

“Well, what shall we do,” said Bill Gaines, “we 
can ’t allow such goins on in our settlement. It ’s a 
disgrace to the stale.” 

“Well, neighbors,” said James Weston, a thick, 
heavy set, elderly man, “my opinion is, that the very 
best thing we can do with the man is to let him be. If 
he won’t neighbor with us, we need not neighbor with 
him, and then we ’ll be as well off as we were afore he 
came into the settlement. I don’t know, and I don’t 
care whether he is an aristocrat or not ; this is a free 
country, and a man can be a democrat if he likes, or 


CHATTANOOGA. 


35 


an aristocrat if he likes — it 's nobody's business but his 
own.’^ 

‘^That’s all very purty talken/’ said Bill Gaines, 

but when a man 's in Eome, he must do as Rome 
does. That’s the law of this settlement.’' 

In the afternoon, Bill Gaines, Tom Giles, and others 
met at a place, near the Camp ground, and Giles again 
stated to his friends, how badly he had been treated 
that morning by Rashleigh, and what he had seen 
in his house. He added, that the man who came to 
the door to let him in, when he knocked, had on a little, 
white apron, like a girl’s, and said he w^ould swar to it 
on a stack of Bibles as high as a meeting-house. 

Weston was not there, and as there was now no 
breakwater to stay the rising tide of public indignation, 
Rashleigh was adjudged an aristocrat. 

Soon after the meeting, a series of petty annoyances 
began, by which Rashleigh was admonished, that from 
some cause, which he did not comprehend, he had be- 
come unpopular in the neighborhood. The fences 
around his fields were thrown down, and his growing 
crops were injured by his neighbor's cattle. Cow bells 
were rung, and pans were beaten, accompanied by 
hideous bowlings at midnight, near his dwelling. When 
he approached a group of his neighbors, either on horse- 
back or in his carriage, they would whisper to each 
other and look intently at him, and when he passed 
them, the whole group would laugh and shout. 

One day as he was on horseback alone, he saw three 
of these men. Wash McGee, Bill Gaines and Tom Giles, 
by the road side, looking earnestly at him, and convers- 
ing in a tone which lowered as he got nearer to them. 
He quietly dismounted and fastened his horse to the 


86 


CHATTANOOGA. 


limb of a tree, went up to them, and inquired in what 
manner either himself or persons in his employment had 
given them offense. 

‘‘Oh!’^ said Gaines, ‘^you know well enough. It's 
no use for you to pretend to be so simple hearted. 
You can’t ketch old birds with sich chaff as that.’^ 

‘‘I wish, neighbors, to live in peace with all men,^' 
said Eashleigh. 

Very nice talk, sir; but, if you want peace, the best 
way to get it is, to go out of these parts.^^ 

‘‘Why, neighbors, I have bought my land and paid 
for it; you have no greater right to compel me to leave, 
than I have to make a like demand of you.’^ 

“Aint we? Well, we’ll show you,’^ said Gaines. 
“ We’re old settlers in these parts.” 

“ I will appeal, if need be, to the law of my adopted 
country for protection.” 

“Who cares for law,” said Gaines ; “we’ve got a law 
among ourselves, and mean to make you and every 
other proud aristocrat, as you are, walk up to it. Yes, 
every sich fellow shall toe the mark.” 

“Neighbors, I am not an aristocrat. I left my 
native country and came to this, because I prefer — 
greatly prefer, the form of government here, to that 
which is, as I fear, too firmly established in England. 
But for that preference, I never would have left the 
land of my fathers. As for my pride, I feel that the 
charge is too true to be repelled. I am not as humble 
as a good Christian should be; but I hope to become 
better as I grow older.” 

“Do you hear that?” said Gaines; “he owns up to 
it right squar. I’ll tell you what, old fellow, if you 
don’t get on your boss and move away right quick. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


87 


I ’ll take the starch out of you so soon, that you won^t 
he much older before you ^re softened down a leattle. 
I ’m riled now,” said he, taking off his coat and laying 
his hat on the ground, ^^and can whip any Englishman 
that ever trod shoe leather. Come on, old fellow, ’ef 
you dar, and we ’ll fight it out on the spot.” 

‘‘Excuse me,” said Rashleigh, “I have no wish to 
hurt you, or disturb the peace of the neighborhood, and 
there are three of you. I am alone.” 

“Hurt me! Hurt me! Well, that sounds sweet 
in my ears,” said Bill Gaines, with an angry laugh. 
“Boys, did you hear that? Hurt me if you can, and 
as much as you can. You have a lettle too much starch 
in you yet, I see.” 

“I certainly do not wish to hurt or to be hurt,” qui- 
etly replied R; shleigh; “but if you attack me, I will 
defend myself.” 

Bill Gaines uttered a loud yell, and rushed at Rash- 
leigh, who, by a single well aimed blow, felled him to 
the ground, and without waiting for an attack from 
McGee and Tom Giles, he knocked each of them down 
in an instant. 

He then mounted his horse and rode slowly away. 

In a minute, all three were again on their feet. 

“ Whar did he hit you ?” said Tom Giles. 

“Right back of my ear,” replied McGee. 

“Why, he hit me thar, too.” 

“And me.” 

“ He never took his gloves off,” said Tom Giles, “and 
he 'seemed to hit you so easy, that the blow could not 
hurt you. And, then, how squarr he stood, and how 
careless he seemed about the whole thing. I believe 
that fellow can whip a whole regiment of men in a far 


38 


CIUTTANOOGA. 


fight. Indeed I do. Nothing looked strange about 
him^ but his eyes ; they blazed like a wild cat’s.’’ 

‘‘I ’ll tell you what it is,” said Tom Giles, ‘‘I ’spect 
that man is a reglar boxer; one of them kind that goes 
round and gives lessons in sparring, as they call it, in 
the old settlements. I'll give him a round silver dollar, 
’ef he will show me the knack of that thing, so as I can 
do it as well as he. ’Ef he will, I ’ll go to all the general 
musters in the country, and whip them out by regi- 
ments. And another thing, boys, I hate a proud man, 
that is, when he ’s proud of his fine clothes and horses, 
or a new rifle ; but that man ’s got something to be 
proud of. A man as can knock three such men as we 
are, has a right to be proud. I’d be proud myself — I 
^spect I would, at least, ’ef 1 could do that trick as nice 
as him. Let ’s forgive him, boys, and let him stay in 
the settlement. Every man is a little wrong sometimes, 
and in some things.” 

‘^I’ll forgive him,” said Bill Gaines. ‘^I like him. 
He ’s game. I like any man whether he ’s purty or 
ugly, if he ’s got pluck.” 

“And so do I,” said Wash McGee. “I’ll let him 
be hereafter. And ’ef he treats me well, I ’ll treat him 
well.” 

“Squire,” said Tom Giles, “you’ve got that all right. 
But I don’t see no use in putting sich leatle neighbor- 
hood scrimmages as that in a book. Indeed I don’t. 
Two years afore that there was a row at Webber’s tav- 
ern, one Saturday arter noon, that beat it all hollow. 
I ’1 tell you how it was.” 

“I don’t doubt it, Giles,” said Mr. Stone; “but that 
is aside from our story. You know, I must stick to the 
text.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


39 


“Ah! well/’ said the old man, smoothing his chin 
with his hand, “I ’spose you must. But ’ef these 
leatie things, that nobody cared about, will do to put 
in a book, what a rouser would that scrimmage make, 
whar twenty men were fighting all together, at Web- 
ber’s tavern.” 


CHAPTER Y. 


Rashleigh called his plantation Arcadia, and still 
read, with unabated interest, Sidney on Government, 
Harrington’s Oceana, and Rosseau’s Social Contract, 
and kept up an extensive correspondence with republi- 
cans in England, in Germany, and France, and the 
United States. He attributed the slight outbreak of 
neighborhood displeasure, which he had encountered, 
only to the rudeness af the persons who were engaged 
in it. That was over now, and he lived in peace. In- 
deed he thought, when he thought at all, upon the 
matter, that his neighbors seemed to treat him with 
greater deference, than they had ever done before. He 
very seldom left his plantatio^n On a pleasant day, 
not long after the interview with Tom Giles and his 
companions, he left home on a short excursion. 

About dusk in the evening, and before his return, as 
some of Rashleigli’s servants were standing at the front 
door of the house, they saw an object approaching, 
which immediately attracted their attention. It looked 
like an immense bird, covered with speckled feathers, 
with an owl’s head, and great goggle eyes, walking 
upright like a pelican. It moved slowly, but steadily, 
toward the door. 

^^"What on earth is it?” said Martha Winter, the 
housekeeper. 

‘‘It’s a Roc,” said John Huskett, “of the speckled 
variety. I knew the bird as soon as I laid heyes on it. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


41 


I prepared specimens of seven of these birds in Haus- 
tralia when I was there, and at the Cape of Good Ope, 
for his grace, the Duke of Devonshire. His grace pre- 
sented one pair of them, which I had the ’onor of pre- 
paring for him, to the Prince of Wales, and another pair 
is in his grace’s own Museum, — one on one side the 
door, the other on the hopposite side, just where I placed 
them myself with my own ’ands. The other three are 
in the Museum of Natural Istry in Lunnon, where 
thousands of people have seen them. The one that 
Sinbad, the sailor s w, was gray; this is of the speckled 
variety. I knew it as soon as I seed it by its large, 
pendulous habdomen.” 

The object still came slowly and steadily on. 

‘‘It’s a ghost,” said Susan, one of the housemaids, 
as she ran into the house; “get a gun and kill it.” 

The women all ran up stairs. The men remained 
firm. 

“I am as sure as I am a man, that it is a ‘Roc,’ said 
Huskett. “I have killed fifty-two birds hexactly like 
it. Twenty of them in the Dutch settlement back of 
the Cape of Good Ope, and the others in Haustralia. 
They were not such dirty looking ones as this is. They 
were in Henglish Colonies, and in course were larger 
and better looking, and kept their feathers cleaner and 
neater than Ilamerican birds. None but a fool would 
hexpect Hamerican birds to be as clean and as neat as 
hour Henglish birds, or as birds in the Henglish Colo- 
nies. See how the feathers of the bird are ruffled and 
turned the wrong way, as if it is too lazy to smooth 
th(;m; and see what a dirty vite it is, I Tl ’av the ’ap- 
piness to skin it to-morrow, and make it look as clean 
and ’vite as them I ’'av ’ad the honor to prepare for his 
4 


42 


CHATTANOOGA. 


grace the Duke, and which are now in his grace’s own 
Museum, vare I placed them with my own ^ands.” 

^^It can’t be a bird,” said William Ashton; don’t 
you see it valks hupright.” 

‘‘ That honely shows your hone hignorance of horni- 
thology,” said Huskett. “Pelicans valks hupright, and 
Parrots nearly so. Eoc’s alvays valks hupright. In- 
deed I know it is a Roc by its valk, and hits pendulous 
habdomen.” 

The object came slowly and steadily on. 

“It shall not henter this ’ouse,” said Ashton, “so 
long as I ’ave the honor to serve Mr. Rashleigh.” 

The object still moved slowly toward the door. 

“It ’s a ’uman,” said Susan, from the upper window. 

John Huskett made a wide circuit round it, and said: 
“It ’s a biped.” 

The object shook its head rapidly, and Huskett went 
still nearer. 

“It’s a hanimal of the genus liomo'\ 

The object shook its head furiously. Huskett re- 
treated a few steps. 

Susan called out — “ You may be sure it ’s a ’uman, or 
how could it knowMvliat you are a sayin’?” 

John Huskett paused for a minute, as if the thought 
of Susan was slowly oozing into his brain. He then 
went fearlessly behind the object, and drew from his 
pocket a large knife with which he cut a cord that he 
now saw bound its hands. It rubbed its wrists, and 
slowly and carefully removed a large cloth which was 
covered on both sides with tar, and placed o^j^ts 
mouth. 

“I am Thomas Jinks,” he said, as soon as he could 
speak. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


43 


A loud scream was heard up stairs, and in an instant 
the whole group of servants gathered round him. His 
hands had been tied behind his back, and his limbs, 
which were tied above the knees, were released. 

Come in the ouse and tell us what this means.’’ 

‘‘ I Ve took a solemn hoath never to henter this ouse 
till 1 tell you word for word the message the villians 
who served this trick on me, has sent to you. 

“ They said we’re hall white niggers, and has dis- 
graced hall Hamerica by working for Mr. Rashleigh, 
who is hable to buy black niggers to work for him, and 
that if we don’t hail leave this settlement in ten days, 
they will tar and feather every soul of hus, and you may 
be sure they ’ll do it, — for they are bad enough to do 
hany thing, — except the gals, and they ’ll get husbands 
for them if they will leave Mr. Rashleigh.” 

Susan laughed and blushed. 

‘^What’s to laugh at here, girl?” said Huskett. 
^‘This is a serious haffair.” 

0 ! I’m so glad it ’s a man,” said Susan ; I 
thought it might be something worse.” 

After hours of labor Thomas was relieved of his tar 
and feathers. It happened that Mrs. McGee had been 
at the house a few days before, and saw him standing 
behind his master’s chair at dinner. 

. This, of course, was told to the neighbors ; at first it 
was not believed, until others who happened to call at 
the house saw Thomas with an apron on his portly per- 
son, in the place of a negro, waiting upon Rashleigh. 
The whole settlement was indignant. 

‘^Did you ever hear of such a thing?” said Mrs. 
Giles, for one white man to be a waiting on another 
white man. It ’s a positive disgrace to the State.” 


44 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Thomas had walked out soon after dinner, and when 
he was about half a mile from the house, was seized by 
four men, who tied him, and then, with great delibera- 
tion, applied the tar and feathers, and let him go the 
bearer of the fearful message, which he had delivered. 

When Mr. Rashleigh returned and was informed of 
this fresh outrage, his wrath knew no bounds. He de- 
termined to have the villians punished to the uttermost 
extent of the law, after he became calm, he assembled 
his servants, and assured them of his protection. 

‘^Well, squire,^’ said Tom Giles, ‘Ghat’s all right, 
but thar was no law-suit ; cause you see he could not 
prove nothing, and it would not have been much if he 
had, cause you see the men what did it was worth 
nothing.” 

Rashleigh’s indignation was so great, that he did not 
retire to rest until long after midnight. 

As he sat musing in the dark and alone, he thought, 
‘Gs this republicanism a dream of enthusiasts?” A 
beautiful dream, indeed; but still only the idle vision 
of a distempered brain. And then he thought if man 
can not govern himself, can he govern others ? At 
last he rose to retire, and said, speaking aloud to him- 
self: Yes, republicanism is right, but something more 

is needed. What is that something ?” 

He groped his way in the dark to his bed, repeating, 
as he did so, ‘‘Republicanism is good, very good, as 
far as it goes, but something else should be connected 
with it.” 

“ What is that something ? 

“What is that something ?” 

The shell may be sound and the kernal rotten. 


CHAPTEK VI. 


We are indebted to a nephew of Mr. Rashleigh’s, 
now living in New York, for a few letters from that 
gentleman to his sister and friends, extracts from 
which will sometimes appear in our story. Mr. Eash- 
leigh, with the care with which he did every thing, 
always had his letters, even his most familiar ones, 
copied into volumes which he kept for that purpose, and 
these volumes, strangely enough, have again crossed 
the Atlantic, and are carefully preserved by the nephew 
who inherited his estate. 

Letter from Mr. Rashleigh to Mrs. Penhall, his 
sister, at , England. 

My Dear Sister : 

I thank you for your letter of 16th May last. The 
ways of this country, as I have already advised you, 
are in so bad a condition, that along many of them, no 
post coach can run. The mail is carried by a man on 
horseback, and comes but once a week. I am assured 
by persons, whose means of knowing the facts are very 
good, that this tardiness will be remedied very soon, 
and when that shall be done, I will hear oftener from 
you. We differ so greatly in our views of politics, that 
I am sure I can not so well interest, you if I write you 
upon that subject, as, perhaps, I may upon other, and, 
to you, more pleasing, matters. 

Your adherence to church and king, and the zeal 


46 


CHATTANOOGA. 


with which you have supported both, when attacked in 
your presence, proves your loyalty and your conscien- 
tious adherence to that which you believe the right. 
My opinions, you know, differ greatly from yours. 
They are still unchanged. 

I have to endure many privations here, of which you 
can have no thought. My servants are, as they always 
have been, faithful, and do every thing they can to 
make my life happy and my home comfortable. I fear 
they don’t like the change they have made by coming 
to this country from ‘‘Merry old England;^’ but hope 
they will gradually become familiar with the persons 
and things around them, and be happy. 

Our farm, or as it is called here, plantation, is fertile, 
and yields abundant harvests. My books are still the 
same unfailing source of pleasure which they have 
always been ; so that, although my life is monotonous, 
it is not unhappy. 

Indeed, my dear sister, there are many things in the 
United States, that tends to make the life, even of a 
recluse, pleasant. I have often looked from my dwelling 
at one of the highest points of the Cumberland Moun- 
tains, and wished to ascend it for the fine prospect 
which I was sure its summit would afford ; but, I did 
not know, until recently, that a path has been cut, by 
which the point is easily accessible on horseback. As 
soon as I knew this, I determined to make the ascent, 
and yesterday, I did so. 

The path is but a narrow trail which is here called a 
trace, covered in places with loose stone, but it is safe, 
and so winds by the side of the mountain, that the 
ascent is easy. 

By walking part of the way and leading my horse. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


47 


and when the path was safe and not too steep, by riding 
slowly, I reached the place which I had selected as my 
point of observation. It is on the west side of the 
mountain and quite near the top, and much higher than 
the other summits of that range. 

The chain is but an extension of the Alleghanies, 
and runs north-east, and south-west. 

It was near sunset when I got to the top of the 
mountain. Below me, and as far as I could see, lay a 
wide, illimitable ocean of verdure, (dotted at wide inter- 
vals with farms recently opened,) in some places sinking 
into long and deep furrows, in others rising almost into 
mountains. The tree tops seemed to be so interlaced 
as to make an unbroken mass — alj^ covered with 
]*ank luxuriance of a western forest^ — and through 
the Tennessee River flowed in wide sweeping curves, 
like a broad, bright stream of melted silver. 

A cloud, charged with lightning and rain, came 
sweeping along from the south-west, and blackened the 
landscape with its shadow. But it passed rapidly away, 
and the wind threw the whole mass of verdure into 
great billows of emerald, which were dashed by the 
light of the declining sun with an atmosphere of crim- 
son and gold, while the rain drops sparkled upon every 
leaf, and fell in showers of diamonds. The rain cloud 
swept along to the north-east ; at one moment a black 
mass, with a rainbow on its southern edge, at the next, 
(as the lightning flashed over it,) a mountain of bur- 
nished gold floating in the air. 

Another cloud crossed the face of the sun and dark- 
ened the scene, and then all its craggy points and 
mountain heights, and pinnacles were edged by the 
sunlight behind it, with narrow fringes of gold. 




48 


CHATTANOOGA. 


The mass became thinner, and the glorious golden 
fringes melted and faded away, and the cloud changed 
into crimson and gold, and flame. 

The sun touched the horizon and the cloud rolled 
apart, and turned into a long and wide vista, like some 
pass between great mountains, which tower from earth 
to heaven, now flashing with gold and crimson, and 
scarlet and grey, and purple, leading to the sun. 

The vista seemed a fit avenue for a host of angels 
and archangels, clothed with sunlight with harps of gold 
in their hands, and crowns of olive leaves upon their 
heads, to march with burning feet over a path paved 
with gold and sunlight, from heaven to earth. 

I gazed till I half imagined T could see the stately 
procession moving? and hear the rich music of their 
evening song. I did hear music ; but it came from a 
flute at the base of the mountain, and so far away, that 
its soft notes, made still softer by the distance and the 
pure mountain air, fell upon my ear with delicious 
sweetness. I was surprised at hearing such music deep 
in the heart of the wilderness, and as the place from 
which it came lay in my way, I determined to find the 
musician as I returned to my home. 

I descended on foot, leading my horse, and after a 
walk through darkness, lighted only by a few stars, the 
rays of which hardly penetrated the thick foliage above 
me, I reached the base of the mountain, and the 
wider and better way that ran along it. Still guided 
by the music, I rode on, until it ceased; but now lights, 
from a multitude of camp fires, were distinctly seen. I 
soon reached the place, and found it an encampment 
of Cherokee Indians. I believe that I have already 
informed you their home lies only a few miles east 
of my dwelling, and extends half across the State of 


CHATTANOOGA. 


49 


Georgia. It is one of the most powerful and intelligent 
tribes in North America. I was hailed by a sentinel 
when I came near their encampment, and after I had 
stated that I was a benighted traveler, he called another 
Indian who guided me to the hut of the chief. 

As I alighted from my horse, the chief came, and 
extending his hand, gave me a hearty welcome. I told 
him my name, and was surprised to find that he not 
only had heard of me, but knew a great deal of my 
history, character, and pursuits. I was still more sur- 
prised to find that my host was the musician, whose 
flute had drawn me to his hut, and that he is a well 
educated man. 

His name is Gray Eagle ; he is a young chief of the 
tribe. He promised to return my visit, and upon my 
asking in what manner I could be of service to him, he 
inquired for a book which he named. I was sorry to 
say that I had not the book; but, after reflecting a 
moment, I remembered to have seen a copy in the 
library of my neighbor, Mr. Norton. I informed him, 
he thanked me, and bade me call soon again. The 
whole incident was so pleasant, that my ride home was 
joyful and happy. But when I arrived there, my 
dear sister, I found all the servants in a state of great 
consternation. You, no doubt, remember Thomas Jinks, 
my coachman in England, who came with me to Amer- 
ica. He, it seems, had given offense to some of the 
peasantry in my neighborhood, by performing the same 
ofiices for me here, which he did in England. This, 
according to their rude notions, is disgraceful to a 
white man. * * * 

The rest of the letter contains a statement of the 
matter detailed in the preceding chapter. 

5 


CHAPTEE VII. 


A PLANTER was moving with a company of slaves 
from the neighborhood of Charleston to Tennessee, 
and Norton committed Huldah to his care. She was 
to be taken to a tavern in Norton’s neighborhood, 
at v/hich the planter would sliop on his journey, and a 
message was to be sent by which Norton would be duly 
advised of her arrival. 

He then started on his journey home. After he got 
there, he called up a negro, who was his favorite, and 
said : “ Abe, I ’ve promised to buy you a wife, and I 
bought one in Charleston; she will be here in ten or 
twelve days.” 

Abe was about forty years of age ; a thick, heavy set 
negro man, with coarse, hard features, and arms that 
extended nearly to his feet. 

^‘Thankee, masser,” said Abe, “what kind of a gal 
is she 

“She is beautiful, Abe, almost white. The prettiest 
girl you ever saV.” 

“ Thankee, masser, but I don’t like white gals, or 
them as is partly white, and as for pretty, why, pretty 
is as pretty does^ You know, masser. Ha! ha!” 

“ Oh, Abe, you are old enough, and strong enough 
to make her ’'behave herself. If you will be a good 
husband, I T1 go her security she will be|p good wife.’^ 

“I is stronger than her, masser. No doubt of that; 
but masser know it’s not the strength of a woman, His 


CHATTANOOGA. 


51 


her tongue that plays the mischief. ’Ef masser will only 
get me one as can’t talk, that will suit me. I don’t 
like talking gals. They talk sweet sometimes, and 
sometimes they talk sour and then they talk bitter. It ’s 
that that breaks my heart, masser. ’Ef this wife you ’ve 
bought for me will only talk good all the time, and 
behave herself, she ’ll suit me. I aint got much preju- 
dice agin’ color; I ’se ’bove that. I’m willin’ to marry 
a white woman, ’ef she’ll only behave herself; but I’s 
a little afear’d to trust ’em.” 

‘‘Why, Abe, you saucy scamp, how dare you talk 
so ?” 

“Masser knows the last wife I had was Kitty. She 
was half white and half black, and I knows she was 
half devil and half woman, and I was mighty glad when 
masser sold her tw^o weeks afore he went to Charleston. 
I ’s had three wives. One black ; she was pretty good. 
1 got ’long with her jist so. Then masser moved out 
here, and I left her in North Carolina. Then I married 
Slome. She was most white, and all devil. Then her 
masser sold her. Then I married Kitty — half white — 
half black — half devil — half woman. Masser, I’m 
afeered of this one. I aint got a bit of prejudice agin’ 
color, but I don’t like these women that has prejudice 
agin’ my color ; it always makes me miserable.” 

“Well, Abe, don’t grieve; if you don’t like her, there 
are two or three men on the place who have no wives. 
You have the first choice, because I had to sell your 
wife, and promised you another. # If you don’t like her, 
you need not take her — that ’s all.” 

I “Well, master. I’ll take a look at the creeter wKen 
she comes.” 

In a few days Huldah came. She was weary and 


52 


CHATTANOOGA. 


sad, and lonely. The slaves on the plantation gafiiered 
around her in the evening after their return from labor. 
The v^omen pitied her, and one of them, at the com- 
mand of Norton, took her to her cabin as an inmate. 

In a few days her sorrows wore off, and it was disco- 
vered that she could read and write. The tidings of 
these great accomplishments were quickly carried to 
the dwelling-house, and Mrs. Mills, the overseer’s wife, 
was duly informed of it. She summoned Huldah to 
her presence, and placed a book in her hand. Huldah 
read slowly, and made a great many blunders; but she 
could read. 

‘‘Why, whar in the world did you learn to read?’’ 
said Mrs. Mills. 

“I learnt it in old Virginny. We, that is, mother 
and me, and the rest of us, lived in a cabin half a mile 
from our master’s house, and a white man came and 
give me lessons, and I le ^rnt to write too, mam,” said 
Huldah, with some show of pride. 

“Well, I’m mighty glad of it, Huldah — not that I 
’prove of colored people learning to read and write. I 
don’t; it spoils them, and makes them saucy, so that 
they won’t work ; but I ’m glad you can read, for I 
want some oue to read to me. My eyes are getting 
weak, and you must come and be my maid, and read 
a little to me every day.” 

“Thankee, mam,” said Huldah, making a low cour- 
tesy, “ITl do my best to please you.” 

The next day Huldah was duly installed in her new 
office. Mrs. Mills sat on an old settee, covered with 
a hide which had been tanned with the hair on, while 
Huldah read to her, at first slowly, and with many 
errors; but she improved by degrees, till Mrs. Mills 


CHATTANOOGA. 53 

declared that Huldah was the best reader in the whole 
world. 

About a week after his last conversation with Abe, 
Norton met him in the field as he was coming from his 
work. 

“ Well, Abe,'^ said Norton, ‘^how do you prosper in 
your courtship ? When will the wedding come off?’' 

“Ah, masser Ned, the day is not sot yet.” 

“Why, what is the matter ? Don’t you like her ?” 

“ Masser, I ’s been looking at that girl. I ’s viewed 
her tentively ; first I looked at her with one eye shut, 
and then with tother shut, and then with both eyes 
open, and I ’s come ’liberately to the conclusion, that 
bein’ as masser Ned wants me to marry her, and bein’ 
as she is young and pretty good looking, and bein’ as 
all my other wives has been sold off, and bein’ as mas- 
ser gwine security for her good behavior, and bein’ as 
masser Ned has bought her at a big price on purpose 
for Abe — why, I ’ll take her, jist to obleege masser.” 

“Well, Abe, you are a gallant fellow, and I suppose 
I ought to be very grateful for your kindness. You 
are to have the prettiest girl within fifty miles for your 
wife, and you take her only as a favor to me. But, 
Abe, how do you prosper in your courtship ?” 

“Courtship! Masser Ned; Abe don’t court; he holds 
himself ’bove that; he ’s too smart and too old for that. 
Masser Ned let me tell you something as will do you 
good to larn. You ’re thirty years old, and aint mar- 
ried yet. I ’s had three wives, and could have had a 
dozen if I would take ’em. I’s made the study of 
women my ’ticular business, and the ’elusion I ’s come 
to, is they’re queer and goes by contraries. ’Ef you go 
talking softly to the farr^ sex, they likes it so well, that 


54 


CHATTANOOGA. 


they ’ll keep you at it as long as they can. And they’ll 
put you off from one day to the next; that may he a 
■whole month will pass before they say — ‘Yes.’ Now, 
anasser, that’s all nonsense. A man as knows what he ’s 
about, won’t submit to it. It’s trifling with his feelings 
and his principles. My way is, masser, jist to go to the 

gal and say, ‘Here I am. Here ’s Ahe ready to 

marry you to-day or to-morrow — ’ef you want me say 
yes, and have no foolin’ about it, and ’ef you don’t say 
yes now, you needn’t never come whinin’ and whim- 
perin’ arter me, kase it will be no use. Now’s your 
time — now or never. ’Ef young masser would do so 
with Miss Harriet over thar — pointing with his thumb 
over his shoulder — Mrs. Mills wouldn’t be mistress of 
this house long, and Miss Harriet would be thar in her 
place.” 

“Well, Abe, I see that you are a philosopher and 
know what you are about. You understand these things 
better than I do. Have you talked to Huldah ?” 

“No, masser, I ’s ’tempted it three times, but she 
runs ’way as soon as I begins. Old Martha is an 
enemy of mine, and I ’spect has been talkin’ agin me ; 
but I don’t mean to give it up so. I ’ll ketch her some 
day and hold her till she hears me through.” 

The next day, early in the morning, a great outcry 
was heard in the yard, and looking out of a window, 
Mrs. Mills and Norton saw Huldah fighting with Abe. 
Her hair was flowing about her neck, and ,streams of 
blood were running down her cheeks. She was crying 
and screaming, and springing upon Abe — springing at 
him with the energy of a wild cat. Her hands fell fast 
and furiously upon him, whileEe bent and received the 
blows in a stooping posture upon his* shoulders and the 


CHATTANOOGA. 


65 


back of his head. She was so furious and so earnestly 
engaged, that she did not heed the commands both of 
Norton and Mrs. Mills to desist. After she had beaten 
him till she was breathless, she turned her head and saw 
them. Still furious, she cried out to Norton, ‘^The old 
ugly brute tried to kiss me.’’ 

“Huldah,” said Mrs. Mills, ^‘we can’t have such con- 
duct here. You*must not fight.” 

‘‘ The old ugly beast tried to kiss me,” said Huldah. 

He won’t let me alone. He keeps following about 
after me to talk to me, and I don’t mean to hear him 
say one word. All I want of him is to let me alone.” 

‘‘Huldah,” said Norton, “go wash the blood from 
your face, and put on another dress. The one you 
have on is all torn, and come into the parlor.” 

Huldah did so. Norton and Mrs. Mills were sitting 
in the room. 

“Huldah,” said Norton, “you must not and shall not 
fight your fellow servants. It ’s an outrage that I will 
not permit on this plantation.” 

“I won’t fight any of ’em, massa, if they will let me 
alone. I never disturbed Abe, nor said one word to 
him. It’s him that began it. He’s to blame, not me.” 

“Huldah, Abe wants to marry you.” 

“ Marry me, master, I know he do. But Aunt Mar- 
tha says he ’s a bad man. He ’s had three wives, and 
called ’em devils, and other bad names, and whipped 
’em almost every day. Aunt Martha has known him 
since he was a little boy. He whipped his own old 
mother with a stick. He ’s an old brute, and needn’t 
be asking me to marry him, for I won’t do it.” 

“Huldah,” said Norton, sharply, “Huldah I’ll have 
no such words here. Don’t tell me you wont.” 


56 


CHATTANOOGA. 


‘‘I did not mean to tell massa, I wont. I meant to 
say so to Abe.^' 

‘^Huldah, I bought you for Abe.” 

Master I can’t marry him. I 's rather die than 
do so. I hates him. I wont have him/’ said Hul- 
dah, screaming and stamping her foot upon the floor, 
and bursting into tears. I ’ll die before I ’ll have 
him.” • 

You shall marry him. You shall marry him. I ’ll 
let you know who’s master on this plantation. At 
first 1 was half jesting about this thing. Now, since 
my authority is disputed, you shall see who is your 
master. It is nothing to me whether you marry Abe 
or some one else ; but it is something to me whether 
I am to be obeyed or not. You shall marry him. 
Old Father Blowhard, the Methodist circuit rider, will 
be here in a few weeks, and then you shall marry him. 
It shall be no jumping the broomstick wedding ; but a 
real one before a white minister that will make you 
husband and wife till one of you dies or is sold. Do 
you hear that?” 

Yes, master,” said Huldah, who was standing before 
him, pale as death, her thin lips tightly compressed, 
her little hands clenched and hanging at her side. 

‘‘ The sooner you know it the better. I ’ll pardon 
you now for the outrage you have committed, by fight- 
ing close by the house. Go and make up your mind 
that Abe is to be your husband, and treat him well, and 
he will treat you well. His other wives were not good 
to him, and so he beat them. As to that affair with 
his mother, I know nothing about it ; but Martha is an 
enemy of Abe’s, and you must not believe every thing 
she says.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


57 


Huldah left the room. As soon as she had gone so 
far that Norton and Mrs. Mills could not hear her, she 
breathed half aloud through her thin tightly compressed 
lips^ — ‘‘Marry Abe! Marry Abe! No, never; I’ll die 
first.” She threw her clenched hands forward, and 
spoke out with energy : “ No, I ’ll die before I will 
marry him.” 

Late in the evening of the same day, Huldah went 
to Martha’s cabin, and told her ail that had taken 
place. 

“ What shall I do, Aunt Martha ? Do tell me how 
to get rid of Abe. Can’t you go and coax him to let 
me alone.” 

“It’s no use, Huldah. He will do just as master 
Ned tells him, and now as master Ned has said you 
shall marry him, it can’t be helped. You’s got to mind 
your master, child, and do whatever he tells you.” 

“ But, Aunt Martha, it ’s no use to try. I can’t 
marry that mean, ugly, dirty old brute. How can I 
love him when I hates him.” 

“It’s no use talkin’, child. You’ve got to marry 
him, cause master Ned say so. If you love him or if 
you hate him, it ’s all one to master Ned. It ’s only 
worse for you.” 

“But, Aunt Martha,” said Huldah, bursting into 
tears, and bending her face into her lap, “ what can I 
do ? Must a poor child like me marry an old wretch 
that I hates.” 

“Thar’s no help, child; you ’r master Ned’s slave, 
and must do what he tells you.” 

“I wont obey him,” said Huldah, springing to her 
feet. “I’ll die first,” and as she said this, she stamped 
her little feet fiercely on the floor. 


58 ' 


CHATTANOOGA. 


no use crying, child, nor taking on, you can't 
help yourself. You 're a slave and must do as your 
master orders you, whether you like it or not.'' 

you can't tell me what to do, is there nobody 
else who can? I tell you I'll die before I 'll marry that 
old wretch, whether master orders me or not. I wont 
obey him. He can't make me do it, and he shall not." 

‘‘Child," said Martha, “it 'pears to me you don't 
know how 'tis; you're a slave, Huldah. You're master 
Ned's property, same as his horses and sheep. You 
got no right to say ‘wont' and ‘will.' He ‘wonts' and 
he ‘wills.' All you can do is to mind what he tell 
you. If he tell you marry Abe, you must marry Abe. 

If he sell Abe and tell you marry somebody else, you 
must. If you don't marry Abe, you 'll be whipped, and ' 
then have to marry him. It 's so wid all of us. You 
is no worse off than all the rest of us colored people." 

Huldah sat and listened with glaring eyes, as Martha 
said this. She then threw herself on the floor, and 
rolled over in the dust. 

“Can I do any thing? Have I no right to say who 
I shall love, and who I wont love ?" 

“No!" said Martha. “None, unless master allows 
you. You 're his, I tell's you. He 's bought you and 
paid for you. You're his, not your own. You're a 
slave — not free — and you can’t do as if you was free. 
You 'd better talk to uncle Isham 'bout this, Huldah, 
bein' as your so set in your way." 

“Who is uncle Isham? and where is he?" 

“Uncle Isham is a free man, and a doctor. He goes 
about the country with a basket on his arm, full of roots 
and herbs. All we colored people goes to him when 
we 're in trouble. He is a conjuror and a fortune 


CHATTANOOGA. 


59 


teller. He ’ll be here to-morrow night to see Sally who 
is sick, and give her some medicine. You can see him 
then.’’ 

Isham came the next evening, and Martha and Hul- 
dah told him all Huldah’s troubles. 

The old man held down his head, and sat for a few 
minutes in deep thought. He then got up and took his 
basket on his arm. 

‘‘What, you aint a gwine away, uncle Isham, without 
tollin’ the child what to do, is you?” 

“Yes. I’ll tell her jist this, not to make herself 
oneasy, for she aint a gwine to marry Abe. I sees that 
well enough.” 

^ “But how is the child to help herself, uncle Isham,” 
said Martha. 

“ That ’s not for you to know. She ’ll be helped, and 
soon enough, too, if she ’ll only keep her eyes open.” 
So saying he went away. 

Huldah half believed the declarations of Isham. An 
hour before she saw him, she was in an agony of grief. 
Now her fears^^^^ more than half gone. She was less 
bitter toward Abe than she had been before, and re- 
sumed, with tolerable composure, her labor in the house- 
hold, and when that was over, her task of reading to 
Mrs. Mills. 

Norton had a few books. At first Huldah read 
slowly, and made a great many mistakes, but, with the 
aid of Mrs. Mills, she improved and became a good 
reader. 

The stock of novels and poetry were soon exhausted, 
and, as they were too far from places where new books 
could readily be had, they were compelled either to 
stop reading or to attack the histories. Translations of 


60 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Livy and Tacitus were next read, and then histories of 
England and America. 

Mrs. Mills’ thirst for knowledge increased; at the first 
it was only the craving of listlessness, now it became 
a steady pursuit and a passion. Huldah’s mind was 
awakened, and the hours seemed too few in which she 
could sit and read to her mistress. 

Norton was often absent, and when he was at home, 
the necessary attention to his business occupied his 
time. 

Huldah’s imagination teemed with the high and ro- 
mantic stories of other times, until she felt almost that 
she was a heroine, and that within her own bosom, a 
fire slumbered, which would, at last, burst forth and fill 
the world with its blaze. 


CHAPTEE VIII. 


A FEW days afterward as Mrs. Mills w^as lying half 
asleep upon the settee, and Huldah was slowly reading, 
half aloud, rather to herself than her mistress, a gentle 
knock was heard at the door, and Gray Eagle entered 
their apartment. 

He was young and graceful. He w^ore on his head a 
cap made of blue silk velvet, with a large gold star in 
front, and over it floated gracefully a cluster of white 
ostrich feathers. His person was wrapped in a blue 
blanket, and his feet covered with moecasins. He had 
a large bow on his left arm, and a quiver filled with 
arrows hung upon his shoulder. 

Mrs. Mills and Huldah were surprised, but not 
alarmed. Many Indians had visited their dwelling, and 
they looked upon them merely as neighbors. He bowed 
gracefully, and inquired for Mr. Norton. 

He was told that Norton w^as at a distant part, of the 
plantation, but would probably ride home in an hour, 
and was invited to take a seat. He did so ; they were 
in the library. He looked around on the shelves, and 
presently rose, and asked permission to examine the 
books. He conversed with Mrs. Mills about their con- 
tents, and soon showed that he was familiar with them. 
The hour flew rapidly past, and yet Norton had not re- 
turned ; another and another hour flew by, until the 
setting sun tinged the windows of the room with his 
crimson beams. A servant, who had returned from the 


62 


CHATTANOOGA. 


field, was called, and he informed them that Norton had 
gone upon some errand to a neighboring village, and 
would not return that night. 

Gray Eagle was invited to remain to supper, hut he 
declined the invitation and took leave, not, however, 
until he had said that he would soon call again, and 
hoped to find Mr. Norton at home. 

As he walked home through the dark forest — now 
lighted only by the stars — he could not but think of the 
beautiful girl he had seen at Norton’s. He had seen 
civilized life, and despised it. He had seen beauty and 
wealth, and fashion and learning, and taste, but he had 
chosen — deliberately chosen — to wander through the 
forest as his fathers for ages had wandered, and to 
enjoy the dignity and freedom of his position, as a here- 
ditary chief of his tribe, and as a Cherokee. Still, as 
he walked along his gloomy, starlit path, under great 
trees that had sheltered his tribe for ages, he thought 
of the slight and graceful figure, and the large, lustrous 
black eyes of Huldah. He reached his tent, and with- 
out telling where he had been, or whom he had seen, 
laid down upon his bed of buffalo skins to dream — to 
dream, not of books, nor of the chase, nor of his cares 
as a chief of his tribe — but of Huldah. 

Huldah had now been two months at Norton’s. The 
visit of Gray Eagle was a new event in her life. The 
gracefulness of his person, the beauty of his face, which 
beamed with intelligence, and had stamped upon it the 
air of one born to command; his easy and elegant man- 
ners, his respectful deportment to Mrs. Mills, and his 
silent deference toward herself, all were objects of pro- 
found interest to her. 

Even his nodding plumes and his bow and arrows, 


CHATTANOOGA. 


63 


and his black hair hanging upon his shoulders, appealed 
to her imagination. He did not seem a stranger to her. 
She thought she had seen him before in that very cos- 
tume, and wondered if it were a reality or but a dream. 
She thought of all the heroes of history, or of romance 
of whom she had read, and found that the young chief, 
in so3ie respects, bore some resemblance to each one 
of them, whom she held in the highest esteem. 

But why need she care for him ? He came, and was 
gone; as a beautiful dream comes in the night and 
fades away in the morning. 

He said he would return — would soon return — and 
he looked at her as he said so. He talked to Mrs. 
Mills, but looked at Huldah as he was talking. He 
talked of old stories of which she had read, and they 
seemed more interesting, instructive and beautiful since 
he had spoken of them. He pointed out some books in 
the library as particularly interesting, and she deter- 
mined to read them again without delay. Every book 
upon which he put his hand, now seemed to have a 
greater value, and those which he. had passed without 
notice, seemed to her unworthy of attention. But 
what was he to her ? She was a slave. He was free ; 
and the proud chief of an ancient tribe. A thousand 
warriors obeyed his call, and marshalled themselves for 
battle at his command. Why should such a friendless 
outcast as Huldah — a poor slave — the property of Mr. 
Norton — the servant of Mrs. Mills — the destined wife 
of old Abe — think for a moment of the gallant young 
chief of the Cherokees? 

But still she thought of him. 

The whole current of her life was changed. She 
dressed each day with greater care. Her step was. 


64 


CHATTANOOGA. 


more stately ; and her eye glowed with greater bright- 
ness than before. She had passed from the dull, grey 
cloud which had encompassed her, into bright sunshine. 
Every object and person now, that passed before her, 

was seen and received its due share of attention. Her 

cheeks glowed with fresh bloom — the dull dream of her 
former life was gone — was gone forever. She no longer 
feared that she would be made the wife of Abe. She 

hardly thought of him for a minute, and when she saw 

him, or w^hen in his absenee she thought of him, it was 
with a lip of scorn. She — to marry that poor creature, 
to live with him as his wife — she felt — she knew it was 
impossible. Her heart beat at each knock upon the 
door, and her eye watched its opening. 

What was the matter with Huldah ? 

All her domestic duties were discharged with greater 
care than they had ever been before. Mrs. Mills no- 
ticed the change, and praised her for her increased 
activity and carefulness — but she saw^ no more. 

What was the matter wdth Huldah ? 

She could not tell ; all that she knew was, that life had 
now a purpose and an object. Existence was delight- 
ful — the' sun shone brighter to her view, the trees were 
greener^ the stars more glorious, and all nature was full 
of that exquisite poetry and romance, which before she 
had found only in books ; and now these books, with 
their rich treasures of knowledge, and of wisdom, were 
opened to her heart. Shakspeare WTote not of the past 
only, but of the present ; his scenes were all around 
her gloAving with the warmth and fire of living, and 
burning and loving beauty. 

What was the matter with Huldah ? 

Nothing — nothing. She was happier now than she 


CHATTANOOGA. 


65 


had ever been before, her step was firmer, and her 
whole being full of luxuriant life, and blooming 
health. 

In two days Grey Eagle returned. 

Norton was at home and received him courteously. 
Except by his costume, he did not differ from well edu- 
cated white men. Their conversation was general; 
principally, however, upon topics in which Grey Eagle 
* and his tribe had an especial interest. Huldah sat 
silently in the room. He did not look at her. She 
busied herself a part of the time in preparations for 
supper. The table was set in the room in which Grey 
Eagle and Norton and Mrs. Mills were conversing. 
Huldah quietly placed the plates upon it, and waited 
upon the guests at the meal. Still Grey Eagle did not 
appear even to see her. When he was about to depart, 
he went with Norton to the side of the room which was 
covered with books, and selected from the library one, 
and but one book which he said he would soon return. 
While he was standing talking to Norton, Huldah 
became conscious that he was looking at her ; she raised 
her eyes and saw him put a piece of paper in a book, 
which he quietly replaced in the library. It was done 
so stealthily and so adroitly, that no one but Huldah 
saw the act ; he gave another look at Huldah, as he 
took his leave, searching and piercing — such as she had 
never encountered — and was gone. 

The family sat in the room until night. Huldah sat 
restlessly, but never even looked toward the part of the 
room where the library was. At last, and late at night, 
Mr. Norton and Mr. Mills went to their several apart- 
ments. Mrs. Mills sat longer, much longer, as Hul- 
dah thought, than she had ever sat before. She had 


66 


CHATTANOOGA. 


taken a long nap after dinner that day, and now was 
entertaining Huldah with old stories of Indian cruelty 
and treachery. She told her a story, which she had 
often told her before, of a great battle in which her 
father had been engaged with the Indians, and how 
cruel the savages had been to the prisoners. The good 
lady, warmed with her subject and each tale of horror, 
reminded her of another and another, until Huldah was 
informed of half the cruelties that Indians had perpe- 
trated upon the whites. At length Mrs. Mills yawned, 
and prepared to retire. She took a candle in her hand, 
and when she got to the door that led to her apartment, 
she returned; There’s one thing more, Huldah, that 
I want to tell you. I believe 1 have never told you of 
Crawford’s defeat, and how the Indians fastened him to 
a stake and burnt him to death. Sit dowm and ITl tell 
you the whole story now, for fear I may never again 
remember to tell it to you.’^ 

Huldah took her seat, and Mrs. Mills began; but, 
before she got far into her narrative, she said: ‘‘Put 
me in mind of it to-morrow, and I ’ll tell you the whole 
tale.^^ 

As soon as she left the room, the book was opened and 
the slip of paper was in Huldah’s bosom. She took a 
candle and went with a quick, light step to her aprtment. 
She first cautiously fastened the door and looked around 
the room, and then, with a trembling hand, opened the 
note. 

It contained but four w’ords, written in pencil — “Be 
awake at midnight.” Her room was on the ground floor, 
and one of its window^s opened out upon a lawn by the 
side of the house. She read the note again and again, 
placed it in her bosom and sat down. It was nearly 


CHATTANOOGA. 67 

midnight. Why should she sit there at the bidding of 
Grey Eagle ? What did he want with her 1 

He did not look at her, nor speak to her, although 
he was in the room where she was for hours. 

But still she sat until she became weary and impa- 
tient. At length she heard a branch of the Cinnamon 
Rose bush, which shaded the window, move against the 
glass. It had often done so before. Always when the 
wind blew hard, that branch rubbed upon the window. 

It moved again. She rose from her seat and went 
near the window. It was a starlight night, but she 
could see no person. The branch again brushed 
against the Avindow, and she gently tapped upon the 
glass. A hand rested on the window sill for an instant, 
and was removed. 

Huldah heard no footsteps — saw nothing more ; and 
waited again for half an hour. All was still. She 
looked more closely and saw something laying on the 
window sill ; cautiously opening the window, she found 
a letter, but it was too dark to read it, and to relight 
her candle, might occasion inquiry. She carefully hid 
the letter, and retired, but neither to sleep — nor to 
rest. 

What was there — she thought — in the letter which 
required so much secrecy in its delivery? Why did 
Grey Eagle write to her? What interest had he in 
her fate or she in his ? 

The morning light seemed to linger. The hours 
passed heavily away. The Avind blew in great gusts 
and the bough of the rose bush dashed heavily against 
the glass. She looked out — no person was there. 
Thick, black clouds floated slowly across the sky, and 

X 




68 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the rain storm set in, and so the long, sleepless and 
weary night passed away. 

As soon as she could discern the dawn, she was 
seated at the window. The struggling light, at length, 
enabled her to see distinctly, and with trembling heart* 
she read the letter. 


CHAPTER IX. 


‘‘Huldah/’ said Mrs. Mills, ^‘wliat ails you to- 
day ? You don’t seem to understand a word of what 
you are reading. T took notice of you this morning, 
as you were setting the table ; you appeared to be 
thinking all the time of something else.” 

I am very well. Madam.” 

‘‘O, I am sure your health is as good as it ever 
was, but still something appears to be the matter with 
you. You have some great weight' on your mind. Lay 
down that book and tell me what you have been reading 
about for half an hour.” 

‘‘Ma’m!” 

‘‘You have been reading aloud to me for an hour. I 
want you to put the book down and tell me what you 
have been reading about.” 

“ I have been reading about Queen Elizabeth, Ma’m.” 

“ What have you read about her ? ” 

“ Don’t know, Ma’m. I was reading for you, not 
for myself.” 

“ Huldah, what have you been thinking of ? ” 

“ I was thinking of the Indians you told me about; 
how cruel they are, and what a great many white peo- 
ple they have killed, and about their burning Crawford 
at the stake.” 

“Well, Huldah, that does account for your inatten- 
tion to what you were reading. But I did not tell you 
those things to scare you. You need not be afraid of 


70 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the Cherokees ; they are friendly Indians, you know, 
and will protect us if need be.'’ 

‘‘Yes, Ma’m.' 

“ That handsome young Chief who was here yester- 
day, would no more hurt you than any white gentle- 
man would.” 

“No, Ma'm.” 

Huldah was greatly surprised, and as greatly, dis- 
appointed by the contents of the letter which she had 
carried so warmly in her bosom, and opened to read 
with such trembling eagerness. It was — 

“Huldah, you must be free. You shall not marry 
Abe. You must come to Grey Eagle’s- camp, and will 
be free while you are there. But Grey Eagle is a Chief, 
and must be obeyed. Three nights from now it will 
rain again in the night. You must get out of your 
window and come down to the gate at midnight, and an 
Indian guide will be there to take you to a good 
hiding place. Burn this as soon as you read it and 
obey.” 

Huldah twisted the letter and lighted the fire with it. 
So far she had followed his command. But why should 
she venture to a camp of savages? What claim 
had Grey Eagle upon her that he should command her 
to obey him ? Her curiosity w’^as greatly excited. Why 
did he wish her rather than any other of the slaves to 
escape? He must have some reason for his choice, and 
poor Huldah could think of but one, and that w^as he 
loved her. At one time she thought she would tell 
Mrs. Mills all about it; at other times she thought she 
would talk the whole matter over with old Mar- 
tha, and would take her advice. But the direction 
to burn the letter as soon as she read it, implied that 


CHATTANOOGA. 71 

its contents were to he secret, and if she asked advice, 
she might he betrayed. 

The first and second day wore away, and the third 
day came in unclouded beauty. 

There was no appearance of the predicted rain, and 
unless it did rain, she was not invited to leave the 
house. 

Night came, and Huldah went out and looked up at 
the sky; hosts of brilliant stars shone down upon the 
silent, sleeping earth. She retired to her room, and 
laid upon her little bed. Hours seem^ed to have passed 
away, and she looked out of the window, and the stars 
still shone in cloudless beauty. All was calm and 
svveet, and silent. She again laid down and fell into a 
troubled slumber, from which * she was awakened by 
gusts of wind, and the moving of the rose bush across 
the panes of glass, and the gentle falling of the rain 
upon the roof, and against the window. 

Grey Eagle, she thought, was surely a prophet. How 
could he know that it would rain that night. But he 
said it would, and it was raining: He said, too, she 
would be free, and she always thought that it would 
be a nice thing to he free, and do as she pleased. He 
said she should not be the wife of Abe. She sat by 
the window and the rain came down, dashed by the 
wind against the house. The clock struck eleven. 

Still the rain increased; what should she do? She 
thought over the tales Mrs. Mills had told her of the 
cruelty of the savages. She thought of Abe and shud- 
dered. She thought of the cruelties of which she had 
read. Would they be kinder to her than Mrs. Mills 
was? And then she thought of freedom — a whole 


72 


CHATTANOOGA. 


lifetime of freedom. Why did Grey Eagle wish her to 
escape rather than others? He must love her; and 
then she thought of his tall and graceful figure, and of 
his nodding plumes and proud air of command, and 
how happy his wife would be to wander by his side in 
the woods, while he chased the wild deer. 

Poetry and romance, curiosity and love, the natural 
love for freedom, and her half love for Grey Eagle, were 
on one side, and on the other — what ? Slavery for life, 
which might be heaver as she grew older, but never 
lighter than it then was. To live the slave of Norton 
and the wife of Abe. 

She cautiously opened the window — the rain still 
poured down in torrents — and the wind swept through 
the great black trees, half bending them to the earth. 
She took a little bundle in her hand, and stood for a 
moment in the tempest, and then almost flew down the 
path that led to the gate. She stood still when she 
got there, it was too dark to see any object, however 
near it might be. She stood until her clothes were 
dripping with the rain, and still no person came. She 
half resolved to go back, when a sudden flash of light- 
ning made all around her bright for an instant, and all 
was then dark, and then a cold hand was laid upon her 
shoulder. Come !” She shrunk from his touch, but 
the guide placed a rope in her hand. ‘^Come!” and 
she followed her unknown and silent guide through the 
rain and the storm, wading brooks that were swollen 
and deep ; now winding along the steep side of some 
mountain ; now groping through t^kets that seemed to jx 
be pathless; now following a well beaten road, and now 
wading for hours along the course of some stream over 


CHATTANOOGA. 


73 


slippery rocks, and amid waters that seemed every 
moment as if they would sweep her away by their 
power. 

The storm abated for awhile, and the bright, blue / 
sky above her was studed with stars. The guide quick- 
ened his pace, and Huldah already weary, could, with 
difficulty, follow him. She still grasped the rope, and 
was half pulled along. 

At length they came to a thick wood, covered with 
trees which had been blown down by some tornado, and 
Huldah was taken into the midst of it, and told to sit 
down and be still. “Don’t move,” said her guide; 

“be still,’^ and he went away. 

The storm came on again with renewed fury, and the 
tall trees bent and cracked, and crashed before it. 
Great trees were torn up by their roots, and others 
broken off, and the rain still fell in torrents. 

Chilled, and cold, and weary, and alone in darkness, 
except when flashes of lightning showed with fiery dis- 
tinctness the whole scene, in all its gloomy terror around 
her, she crouched and drew a wet shawl over her shoul- 
ders, and tried to sleep ; but the roar of the thunder 
and of the tornado, and the crash of falling trees, for- 
bade it. 

The day began at last to dawn, and the gray clouds 
fled in haste away, pursuing each other over the sky, 
until at last no trace of the tempest was seen, except 
where the earth was strewn with its wrecks. 

Huldah was still seated in obedience to the command 
of her guide. Suddenly, as if he had risen from the 
earth, or dropped from the skies. Grey Eagle was at 
her side. She heard no footsteps or other sounds of 
his approach ; he came so quietly upon her through the 
7 


74 


CHATTANOOGA. 


tangled thicket, and over fallen trees, and through pools 
of water that she could hardly believe her senses, when 
he stood beside her. 

‘‘Do you want to be free, Huldah?’^ 

“Yes V and after a pause, “Yes, master.’’ 

“You shall be free. I am not your master. Will 
you marry i\be ?” 

“No; never, never. I’ll die first.” 

“Where is your father ?” 

“ My father !” 

“ Yes ! where is he ?” 

“ He ’s in Virginia, I believe ; he was thar when we 
was sold? He lived not far from us, and often came to 
our house, to see us.” 

“ You have obeyed me so far, and whether you will 
be safe or not, will depend upon yourself. My plans 
are well laid, but they may not succeed unless you fol- 
low them.” 

“I will do so. What must I do ?” 

“You must do one thing at a time, and ask no ques- 
tions. Follow me.” 

He led the way through bent, and tangled shrubs 
and bushes, over old trees, some of which had been 
blown down so long, that they were half decayed, and 
over others, that the recent storm had torn up by their 
roots ; till they came to the side of a hill where dim 
traces of a path could be seen ; and then directed her to 
go before him. He followed her and carefully concealed 
all signs of her footsteps, and thus they went on for 
miles, until the wearied girl was ready to sink to the 
earth. He then went before her, and led her by a mazy 
winding course. Sometimes taking the bed of a small 
brook, which they waded up for a mile ; at other times 


CHATTANOOGA. 


75 


crossing and recrossing it. They came to a hut in 
the woods, surrounded by bushes, so thickly, that it 
could not be seen, until the party was close to it. They 
went in, and Huldah was seated upon the damp ground. 
Grey Eagle kindled a fire, and broiled some venison 
for her breakfast. The sun shone brightly and Huldah 
was soon comfortable and warm. 

Grey Eagle told her that he would come and see her 
again in the afternoon. Huldah made a seat in the 
hut upon which she sat, and slept and was rested. 
With the afternoon came Grey Eagle — punctual to his 
appointment. He was accompanied by two Indians — 
both of them young persons — whom Huldah soon found 
were husband and wife ; the woman brought a bundle 
in her hand. 

‘^Do you want to be free, Huldah?’’ again said Grey 
Eagle. 

‘‘Yes and a pause, “Yes, sir.’^ 

“Do you want to see your father ?” 

“Yes, sir.^’ 

“Follow my directions, then, and you will be free, 
and will live with your father.” He sat on the ground 
before her, laid aside his cap, and threw his long, black 
hair over his shoulders. “ This woman has brought for 
you Indian clothing. You are to be an Indian, and one 
of our tribe. We will leave the hut, and when we 
come back, I will see an Indian girl.’^ 

The men then left the hut and after a short absence, 
came back, and found Huldah arrayed from head to 
foot in Indian costume. Moccasins, blanket, and beads, 
with a bow in her hand, and a quiver full of arrows at 
her back. 

Grey Eagle smiled as he looked at her, and his 


76 


CHATTANOOGA. 


companion said, she good Indian now ; one real Che- 
rokee/^ Grey Eagle burnt all the clothing that Huldah 
brought with her, and stood by the fire till the last 
vestige of them was utterly consumed. 

He then conversed with the man and woman in the 
Cherokee language, and often, while doing so, pointed 
to the earth. 

After their conference, he told Huldah that those per- 
sons were now her brother and sister, and that all the 
Cherokees were either brothers and sisters, or fathers 
and mothers to Huldah. That she should go two days 
journey with them to the north-east, to another part of 
the country inhabited by their tribe, and would there 
find a home, and freedom. ‘‘I will see you in one 
moon,'’ said Grey Eagle, and then, without bidding her 
good-by, or saying a word to herself, or to her compa- 
nions, he walked away. 

Huldah and her two friends remained at the hut until 
night. They then started on their journey. The man 
walked before them, his wife followed closely behind, 
and Huldah followed her. They walked on in silence. 
Their course was almost in a straight line, except that 
now and then, some creek or a steep hill, induced 
their leader to turn aside for awhile, but afterward he 
would again go on in the same direction. The man 
never changed his pace, and never stopped until day- 
break, when they turned aside and found shelter and 
refreshment for the day, in a deep glen which was half 
hid by tall bushes and shrubs. 

At dark the next night they resumed their monoto- 
nous journey, and soon reached the place to which they 
were sent. 

It was a great encampment of Cherokee Indians in 


CHATTANOOGA. 


77 


the middle of large fields in which was cultivated corn, 
and wheat, and tobacco, and filled with horses, swine, 
and cattle. 

Her guides conducted her to a hut, the only occupant 
of which was an old Indian woman, and said to Huldah : 

This is your home, and this woman is your mother^— 
your Indian mother.^' 


CHAPTEE X. 


Early the next morning it was discovered that Hul- 
dah had fled. Butwhitfer? No trace could be seen 
of her, except the open window, two broken branches 
of the rose bush, and the deep imprint of her shoe be- 
low the window, as she alighted on the ground. The 
hard rain had obliterated all other marks. Search was 
made in the out-houses and even in the woods. 

‘‘It makes no difference, '' said Norton, “she will 
stay away until she gets hungry and then come 
home.^’ 

But after five day’s delay as she did not return, Nor- 
ton entered upon a more dilligent and earnest search. 
He knew that Grey Eagle had been at his house, but 
he also learned that for three days before Huldah fled, 
Grey Eagle had been absent on an excursion to part 
of his tribe, fifty miles from his own encampment. 
Spies were sent into the Indian country under the pre- 
tence of trading for skins and venison, but they neither 
saw nor heard of any person who at nil resembled Hul- 
dah. The search was abandoned at last as hopeless, 
and Norton bit his lips in angry silence. He attribu- 
ted her flight to her hatred of Abe, and was not at all 
pleased when he learned that at the very time Abe in- 
tended to marry Huldah he had a wife who was a slave 
of one of his neighbors. 

“ How is it, Abe,’’ said Norton, “ that you agreed to 
marry that girl when you have one wife already?” 




CHATTANOOGA. 


79 


Massa, the waj of it is jist this, — Fse got one wife, 

I sure 'nuff, but she’s sickly, and will die soon. She 
I can’t live longer than the next fall of the leaves, you 
, see, and so I agreed to take this gal now to be sure to 
get her ; cause if I did’nt, why Massa would gin her away 
to big Ben, and then I’de have no chance to please Massa 
by marry in’ her. Hannah, that’s my wife now, might 
die any time, cause she’s mighty poorly, and then I’de 
be in a nice fix. I know’d Massa Ned would’nt care. 

^‘Well, Abe, Huldah has run away. If you will 
find her so that I can get her. I’ll give you two silver dol- 
lars, which is more money than you ever had at any 
one time in all your life.” 

Trust Abe for dat, Massa. I’ll find her, ’cause you 
see, she’s slighted m^ and Abe don’t like to be slighted, 
'specially by the fe^ex. I’ll find her for you. Them 
two dollars is as good as if dey was in my pocket 
now. She not far off, you may be sure of dat, ’cause 
she’s stranger in these parts, and none of the people 
. off of this plantation has ever seen her. She is not 
got many friends, and arter awhile when she’s laid 
out in the woods till she gits scared and half starved, 
she’ll be glad enough to came home and get Massa 
Ned to take her back agin. Old Martha, you know, 
runned off and stayed in de woods and swamps six 
months, and at last come limpin’ home, and said if 
Massa would’nt whip her, she never would run away 
agin. That was afore we moved out here — way off in 
North Carolina, whar we cum from, and so it will he 
wid dis gal. Never fear, Massa, Abe will get two dol- 
lars and a new wife ; old one most dead now. 

‘‘Well, Abe, keep a good look out, and as soon, 
as you hear any news of her let me know.” 


80 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Trust Abe for that, Massa, He’ll keep both eyes 
open for ten years but what he’ll find her. He lay 
low and keep dark, Massa Ned.” 

Mrs. Mills was sure that Huldah was not with the 
Indians. 

‘‘Why,” said she, “she was so frightened at the 
old tales of the Indians I told her, that I am cer- 
tain she never w^ould dare to go nigh them. It 
was lucky, indeed, that I hapened to be talking about 
such things just at that time. Mr. Norton, if you will 
tell all the servants that Huldah is not to be Abe’s wife, 
she will get to hear it in some way, and will come back 
pretty soon, I am sure. I never saw a girl hate a 
person more bitterly than Huldah hated Abe. She 
trembled and turned pale at the bare mention of 
his name, and one night— the night after you told her 
she should marry Abe, — I really feared she would go 
into spasms. She seemed half distracted; but I talked 
to her and soothed her, and she got better till at 
last, as nothing was said about it in the house, I think 
she half forgot the whole affair, and never looked bet- 
ter and happier than she did on the very day before 
she ran away. I wish she would come home, for 
she’s a smart, active, good girl, and I like her very 
much indeed.” 

“I will make no such declaration,” said Norton. 
“No slave on the plantation shall say ‘ I woriV to me. 
I will make an example of her. It is essential to 
the discipline of the place. A man can’t be master 
of his slaves unless they obey him. Huldah shall obey 


CHAPTER XI. 


The Cherokees, at the time Huldah was with them, 
were not so far civilized as they are now. They cul- 
tivated part of their lands, and had large herds of cattle, 
hogs, and horses. They united farming and grazing 
with huntii^ and fishing. 

The encampment to which Huldah had been sent was 
situate on the west slope of a hill; at the base of it 
a large stream flowed rapidly in a south-eastern course, 
and between the stream and the village, and all around 
the village, were lands that had been cleared, and 
were in a state of tolerable cultivation. In some of 
them there were herds of horses and cattle, and in 
others growing corn and cotton. The houses were 
log cabins, one story high, generally with but one 
room. The windows were without glass, and the fire 
was made at the side of the hut, where an open place 
like the aperture for a chimney had been left to let the 
smoke escape. 

Huldah came to the encampment at a very unfavora- 
ble time. Nearly all the men were out on a hunting 
excursion, and there was a famine in the camp. Not 
for food, for that abounded; nor for whisky, for 
they had more than enough of that, but for tobacco. 
Some of the women, old and young, sat growling in 
their huts, with their pipes in their mouths, vainly 
endeavoring to smoke. Others were smoking dried^ 
herbs and oak leaves, with great vigor. A troop of 


82 


CHATTANOOGA. 


boys seemed to be on the look-out for some arrival, 
and when Huldah and her guides came — although it 
was pretty late at night — the whole village was 
aroused and clustered around them asking for to- 
bacco. They got a little, so little that only two could 
fill their pipes, and the rest went grumbling away. 
For two days after she arrived the famine raged 
and preyed upon the vitals of the community. 
Nothing was heard but angry growls, varied sometimes 
by a tornado of abuse, heaped by some old woman 
upon another, or upon some girl or boy whj^ happened 
to come before her. Nothing was seen but the women 
sitting in the doors of their houses, each with her pipe 
in her mouth, as if she was holding it in readiness for 
the expected supply, or perhaps derived some comfort 
from its savory stem. 

At last, about noon, two days after Huldah came, a 
great outcry was heard among the troop of boys. All 
the women ran together to an open space in the middle 
of the village, and saw descending the hill three young 
men wdth pack horses. Just behind the horses was a 
monstrous looking object keeping pace with them. The 
whole body seemed to be made of leaf tobacco, piled 
up tier upon tier, as high as the head of a man on 
horseback, and extending almost down to its feet. As 
it came nearer, Huldah saw that it was a horse laden 
with leaf tobacco. 

At the beginning of the famine three young men were 
sent but to purchase a supply. The article was scarce, 
and they had to go farther than they intended when 
they set out. Their return was now welcomed by shouts 
%from tbe boys, and the old women laughed and took 
their pipes from their mouths and waved them in the 


CHATTANOOGA. 


83 


air. In an hour every woman and girl and half the 
boys in the village, were enveloped in a cloud of tobac- 
co smoke. They smoked on as if the fate of empires 
depended on their exertions. They smoked till mid- 
night, when Huldah, wearied with the scene retired to 
rest, and when she rose in the morning she found them 
smoking. They became good humored, and clustered 
again around Huldah, until each article of her dress, 
and her hands and face were closely examined. She 
could not speak a word of the Cherokee language, and 
not one o^hem could speak a half a dozen words in 
English, s^iat their whole intercourse was by signs and 
gestures. 

The other pack-horses were laden with salt and iron, 
and some clothing for the women and children. The 
distribution of these articles increased the general hap- 
piness of the village. 

The next day an Indian youth came on horseback to 
the village. He led a coal black and beautiful pony, 
which had a side-saddle and highly ornamented bridle 
upon it, and he soon displayed before the gaze of all 
the women, some beautiful dresses and a riding hat with 
black ostrich feathers waving over it, which he informed 
them had been sent by Grey Eagle, >with the pony, as 
presents to Huldah. 

She blushed and smiled as she received them, and the 
young stranger was immediately regarded with venera- 
tion as the destined bride of their great and favorite 
young Chief. 

The mother, to whose care Huldah had been com- 
mitted, was an old woman, probably sixty years of 
age. She was a widow, and all her sons, except Grey^l*^ 
Eagle, had fallen in battle. Her new daughter was 


84 


CHATTANOOGA. 


received at first without any sign of afiection. Her 
son had sent Huldah to her, and for his sake she 
was admitted into her hut. The old woman sat 
nearly all day smoking her pipe, and crouching over 
a small fire, the smoke from which made her dark fea- 
tures still darker. She could speak hut few words 
in English and their mode of interchanging their 
thoughts was at first by signs. But Huldah soon 
learned to speak the very few words which were 
necessary for the little conversation that passed be- 
tween them. 

Huldah made herself useful to her new mother. 
She made the hut neater and cleaner than it had ever 
been before, and contrived in a thousand little ways to 
adorn it. She gathered wild flowers from the woods and 
placed them in pitchers and cups, and spread branches 
of evergreen over the earth floor of the cabin, and day 
by day added something that made her rude home more 
pleasant and attractive. The old woman at first was 
careless of these changes, and hardly seemed to know 
thev had been made ; but when other Indian women 
came and smiled, and ran to their own huts and adorned 
them also, she became proud of her new daughter 
and watched her every movement with delight. Hul- 
dah aided her in her labors. She waited upon her as 
she had waited upon Mrs. Mills, and these attentions 
continued from day to day for weeks and won the 
mother’s heart. All the old affection for her children 
which so long seemed to be dead within her, was revived 
and invigorated, and concentrated upon Huldah. She 
loved her with a deep earnestness of affection, such 
as perhaps she had never felt for any one of her 
own children. Huldah was an Indian now, straight 


CHATTANOOGA. 


85 


and Hgbt. and graceful as any of the tribe, and when 
she was wrapped in her blanket and her hair filled with 
eagle’s feathers — with mocassins upon her feet and a 
bow and arrows at her back — but few persons could have 
discovered any difference between her and those who 
had been born in the tribe. 

Grey Eagle did not come as soon as she expected to 
see him. She inquired of the chief of the tribe she 
was with what detained him, and was told she would 
know from himself when he came, but he could tell 
her nothing. 


After she had been there six weeks, early one 
morning a stranger, guided by an Indian boy, came to 
the hut in which she lived. He was brown, and had the 
sun-burnt and swarthy complexion of an Indian, but 
his deep clear blue eyes and brown half curled hair, and 
his gait and carriage so different from the Indian, showed 
Huldah at the first sight that he was a white man. 
Another look and she sprang into his arms. 

Father ! ” 

He embraced her tenderly and led her into the hut. 

‘‘ I have come, my child, to live with you. We will 
have a hut to ourselves, and you shall be my house- 
keeper, and we will live together for the rest of our 
lives.” 

Huldah leaped and clapped her hands and embraced 
her father and leaned her head upon his shoulder and 
wept. 

‘‘ You have all your life been a. slave, now you shall 
be happy and free. 

The next day they went to another encampment of 
Indians, nearly half way between the place they had 
left find the old encampment, of which Grey Eagle 


86 


CHATTANOOGA. 


"Was Chief. Here, in a hut which her father had 
already built, they made their humble and happy 
home. Her father’s old passion for whisky seemed 
to have forsaken him, and while he hunted in the 
woods or gave attention to his growing crops of 
corn and cotton and tobacco, she attended to her 
domestic duties. 

Very soon after they were settled in their new 
home, Grey Eagle stopped at their hut, on his way 
to visit his mother. He talked with her father un- 
til midnight, and early the next day went on his 
journey. 

Huldah was grateful to him for aiding her to 
obtain her freedom, but the old feeling that once 
had dominion over her had half passed away. Her 
affection for her father filled all her heart. 

As she looked at Grey Eagle now, she wondered 
at the strange delusion of her senses. When she 
saw him before, he was indeed young, and tall, 
and graceful and intelligent and handsome, but the 
inexpressible charm that had, in her view, crowned 
his whole person with a mantle of living light, and 
hallowed every action so that his very steps seemed 
like the tread of a being more than mortal ; where 
was it ? 

Alas ! poor Huldah, it had not fled forever. 

At the end of three days Grey Eagle returned. 
He was now more attentive to her than he had 
been before. He told her father how much his 
mother loved, and how warmly she praised her, 
and how sad she had been made by her departure. 
He even smiled when he talked to Huldah, and 
when he went away he shook hands both with 


CHATTANOOGA. 8T 

her father and herself, and said he would come 
again in a few days. 

“I think,’’ said her father to Huldah, ‘‘that Grey 
Eagle is more social than I have ever seen him be- 
fore. When he is at home with the tribe he seems to 
be always a Chief, and too stern and dignified to talk 
much with any person, except indeed upon his busi- 
ness.” 

“ He was quite social, father. I have seen but lit- 
tle of him before. He is a very pleasant companion. ” 
“ Yes, when he gets away from his tribe, and can lay 
aside his dignity, he is as pleasant and intelligent a man 
as I have met with. If he had not resumed the blanket 
and the moccasins, but had remained with the whites, 
he might, perhaps, in spite of the prejudice against his 
color and his race, have risen to distinction. But I do 
not blame him. I had myself rather be a free man 
with the Cherokees, than endure the trammels which 
civilized life imposes upon its victims. We are happy 
here. The sun is bright above us, and the mountain 
air fans our cheeks. The earth yields abundant har- 
vests. What more do we want ?” And as he said this 
he stared with fixed eyes at vacancy and sighed. “ Yes,” 
said he, “what more do we want ? ” 

“ Well, father, I want a great deal more than we 
have here. I want a new dress, and new shoes, and I 
would like to have ear-rings, and another string of beads, 
and a feather bed, and more blankets, and — ” 

“Nonsense, child. Women always want everything 
they can think of. Let us be contented with such things 
as Ave have.” 

“ T suppose I must be, father, but still I can’t help , 
thinking of such things. I like to be free and to live 


88 


OHATTANOOGTA. 


•with you, but every day of my life I think of some- 
thing else I would like to have : a new silk dress, flowers, 
and a bonnet with white feathers in it, and a breast- 
pin, and ear-rings, and gloves, and shoes, and stockings, 
and one thing I would dearly like to have — a green silk 
parasol to keep the sun off me when I go out of doors/^ 
Ah, my child, those things are very pretty, indeed, 
and perhaps at some day I may be able to get them for 
you ; but they would be of no service here. They 
would only make the other women and girls in the en- 
campment envy and hate you.” 

Father, I would like to have some books, too. I 
am afraid I will forget everything I have learned, and 
after a year or two more, it may be that I will forget 
how to read.” 

‘‘Yes,” he said. “ that is a reasonable wish, and per- 
haps I may be able soon to obtain some for you. You 
have told me of many that you have read. I think I 
can get others. Grey Eagle has some which I will ask 
him to lend you.” 

“ I have no doubt he will do so, father, and then I 
will sit and read to you as I used to read to Mrs. Mills. 
I am sure you will like to hear me.” 

“Yes, daughter, I will listen with great pleasure 
while you read. 


CHAPTEK XII. 


“Squire/’ said Tom Giles, “please don’t put that 
’bout Huldah’s lamin’ in your book, ’cause the exam- 
ple ’s a bad one. If thar ’s any thing in this world that 
I ’m more constitutionally and teetotally fornenst than 
another, it ’s throwin’ away schoolin’ on niggers. 
Squire, no good ever comes on it, I mind one case 
now, that when ever I think on it, always riles me.” 

“ What was it ?” said Strong. 

“Why it were this, squire. Old Mr. Glibbers jined 
j the Presbeterians, and the preacher told him if he 
would honor the Lord with his substance, he would 
be blessed, indeed. At first the old man was too 
close to mind him ; but he kept on tollin’ him and 
preachin’ about it, till the old man said he would try 
it at a venter. So he had a yellow boy — some people 
said he war his own son, but no matter, — and the boy 
were smart, and the preacher said it would be a good 
'thino to sive him schoolin’ enough to make him a 
preacher. So he made-up his mind that he_ should 
be a preacher. The next thing, squire, were to raise 
the wind, for he thought nobody were fit to preach with- 
out that. So he talked of selling his cotton crop, but 
j that fell short, and he had none to spare ; and then he 
looked about and thought he ’d sell a horse or two, and 
some cattle, but he could not spare them, and he were in 
great trouble to get money. So one day the preacher 
were at his house, and he opened his mind to him, and 
8 


90 


CHATTANOOGA. 


told him what he wanted to do, and how badly he were 
ofF.’^ 

Then the preacher studied awhile and says: “Bro- 
ther Glibber^, aint you got a servant or two you can 
spare; it seems to me you are a little over-stocked in 
that line.’’ 

“No,” said Glibbers, “all my hands are needed to 
clear up the place and make the crops.” 

“Why, here’s old Molly,” says the preacher, “she 
can’t work out of doors, and will sell for a nurse to any 
body as has young children.” 

“But,” says old Glibbers, “Molly is the boy’s grand- 
mother.’' 

“ So much the better. Brother Glibbers, so much the 
better,” said the preacher, “because you can't put his 
grandmother to a better use, th;in to sell her to educate 
her grandson for the ministry. I wonder that you 
never thought of that before. It 's all in the family, 
you see, and the woman ought to be thankful that in 
her old age she can be made to do so much good.” 

“But Molly is a good old Christian woman,” said old 
Glibbers. 

“So much the better still,” said the preacher, rub- 
bing his hands; “so much the better for that, brother. 
I should feel sorry to see a yile sinner sold to educate 
a boy for the ministry. Always give of the best you 've 
got to the Lord. If he were to be trained for a doctor 
or a lawyer, it might do well enough to sell a bad nig- 
ger to do it ; but when you want to make a minister of 
him, sell the best you have got, brother, the very best, 
and don’t offer the lame, or the blind to the Lord.” 

“But it looks queer to sell the boy's grandmother to 
educate him,” said old Glibbers. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


91 


‘^Why, how strange you do talk. Brother Glibhers,’^ 
says the preacher. ‘‘How many grandmothers do you 
think have been sold to educate the first men in the 
South, — our members of Congress, and lawyers, and 
doctors. Now is it not doing better with the money to 
educate them to preach the Gospel — than to serve the 
world.’' 

“ Squire, I can’t tell you all that he said. It 's been 
so long ago, that I may have forgot some ; but the up- 
1 shot of the hull was, old Molly were sold, and the boy, 
Tom, were sent off to some big school to larn to be a 
preacher, and arter a few years he came through the 
mill a great preacher. I have hearn him myself. He 
did not preach so loud as Father Blowhard, nor half so 
long as Elder Jones; he were smooth and oily, and 
pleased every body, and soon he turned rather impudent 
I in his manners. He eat with white folks, and drank 
with white folks, and arter he got to be a great man, 
he married a rich white gal, and bought a stock of 
mules and niggers, and sot up for a gentleman. I 
don’t like that, squire. I am coi^titutionally and tee- 
I totally fornenst it — indeed I am, squire. It’s wasting 
money to school niggers, and only makin' 'em impudent 
and saucy. 

I “It does seem wrong,” said Mr. Strong, “to sell the 
' boy's grandmother to educate him for the ministry.’' 

“Squire,” said Tom Giles, “don't say so. It does 
hurt my feelings to hear you talk so. Being as you 
I come from Connecticut, whar the people in course don’t 
i know no better, squire, I can excuse you. I feel for 
' you, squire. But you are under a mistake about that 
I thing. It 's right to hold ’em. Well, if it ’s right to 
hold ’em, it’s righter still to sell ’em. Cause it's no use 


92 


CHATTANOOGA. 


to have ’em without you can sell ’em. If it ’s right to 
sell ’em, why not school children with the money? 
And if it ’s right to school children at all, it ’s righter 
still to school ’em to be preachers. And if it ’s right 
to sell any body to school a boy for a preacher, it ’s 
righter still to sell his own grandmother to do it.” 

Yes,” said Strong, ‘‘it is all very clear. You are 
quite logical, Giles.” 

“Give us your hand, squire,” said Tom, seizing Mi% 
Strong’s hand, “your coming right, fast.” 

Tom Giles had been sitting for an hour with both his 
elbows on the table, his face covered with his hands, 
listening to the narrative as it was read by Mr. Strong. 
The sound of a horses feet was heard, and Giles went to 
the window to see who was coming. He almost leaped 
as he said, “Jim Wilson,” and hastened out to meet his 
old friend. Their greeting was cordial. After many 
inquiries respecting each others health, and the health 
of their families, Wilson took from his horse a pair of 
ragged, black, saddle bags, and they came into the 
tavern. 

Strong looked out to see Giles’ friend. He was an 
old man; but his hair was still black, and his deeply 
set, piercing grey eyes, gave a singular expression of 
wildness, to his sinister countenance. He was lame in 
one limb, and walked with a cane. 

The old men walked into the bar-room, and Strong 
went on with his book. 

After an absence of an hour, they came into the room 
where Strong was reading. 

“ Squire,” said Giles, “ this man is an old friend of 
mine. . He came into this settlement arter the things 
took place, that your book reads about, but has hearn 


CHATTANOOGA. 


93 


I 

tell of a great deal of them, and I ’ve be’n tellin’ him 
I about your book, and he says he’d like to hear you 
read some on it.” 

I ^‘Certainly,” said Mr. Strong, I will read to Mr. 
Wilson with pleasure, and hope he will point out any 
errors he may find in my manuscript. I wish very 
much, indeed, to have the story in all its details ex- 
actly right.” 

“ Sartainly,” said Wilson, I ’ll help you all I can.” 

, Strong read to the parties for an hour. While he was 
doing so, Wilson gave significant looks at Giles, and 
both Wilson and Giles left the room. 

They walked together a hundred yards from the 
house, when Giles said, Let’s stop here in this 
shade.” 

‘-‘No,” said Wilson, “come a little farther.” They 
went on fifty yards farther, and Giles again wanted to 
halt. 

Wilson pulled him by a button; “Come on here to 
this bunch of hazel bushes ahead.” 

They reached the place, and after they had looked 
I carefully around, seated themselves closely together on 
' a log. 

Wilson looked Giles fully in the face. 

“Do you love your country, Tom Giles.” 

“Why, yes. Sartainly I do.” 

“Always knowed it. You ’ve fit for your country — 
havn’t you, Tom Giles.” 

I “Why, yes. You know I’ve done that thing more 
nor ’onst under Gineral Jackson.” 

“Do you love Gineral Washington, Tom Giles?” 

“ Sartainly I do. He ’s dead now, but I love him 
yit" 


94 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Tom Giles, do you know what you ’re doing here 

^^Why, yes; I’ve told you. You scare me old 
friend.” 

“Tom Giles,” said Wilson, hobbling to his feet, and 
standing before him, “ do you love the American Union, 
and hate the British?” 

“Sartainly I do,” said Giles, rising to his feet, “what 
do you mean ?” 

“Well, now, let ’s sit down again, old friend, and I’ll 
tell you.” 

They sat down. “This here man is a Yankee, aint 
he?” 

“Yes,” said Giles. 

“I knowed it from the way he drawles his words 
through his nose, as soon as I hearn him,” said Wil- 
son. “And he ’s a fixin’ up a book about niggers and 
Indians, and liberty, and all that kind of thing?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And you ’re helping him, Tom Giles ?” 

‘Yes. He says I’ve been of considerable sarvice 
to him.” 

“ Tom Giles, are you the same man you was twenty 
odd years ago, when you left these parts ?” 

“Sartainly — the very same.” 

“I tell you,” said Wilson, again getting on his feet 
and standing before Giles, “that thar man is a dissolv- 
ing of this glorious Union.” 

Giles was thunderstruck. 

“He is — I tell you he is,” said Wilson, “every line 
he writes in his book, makes this blessed Union weaker 
and weaker, and by the time he gets to the eend of 
it — it will all be broken into fifty pieces, some of 
♦’em,” said Wilson, (pausing for an adequate phrase to 


CHATTANOOGA. 


95 


express his thoughts,) some of ’em not bigger,” (another 
pause, and during which he pulled out part of a red, 
cotton handkerchief, and wiped his face,) some of ’em, 
Tom Giles, not a bit bigger than this here piece of a 
hankercher.” 

‘‘You don’t saj so,” said Giles. 

“And you — you, Tom Giles, are a helping him to 
split the Union, and ruin the country.” 

“He seems like a mighty friendly, sociable, clever 
man, and pays well,” said Giles. 

“Ah, but he’s a Yankee, Tom Giles. Never,” said 
Wilson, shaking his head, “never trust a Yankee, and 
you ’ll always be on the safe side, old friend.” 

“Oh!” said Giles, “I never thought of that.” 

“ Tom Giles, don’t you know that times is altered 
here?” 

“Yes,” said Giles, “I see a mighty change. I’d 
hardly know the place if it wern’t for the mountains, 
and rocks, and trees, and creeks. Thar’s been so 
much clearin’ done in these parts, and so many houses 
built, that I hardly know it ; and, as for the people, 
you are the only one of my old friends I ’ve seen since 
I ’ve been here.” 

“Yes, Tom, all these things has changed; but,, 
thar ’s other changes here. What people used to think 
was right, is just ex ctly wrong now, and what people 
used to think was somehow wrong, is the rightest thing 
in the whole world now.” 

“You don’t say so,” said Tom Giles, “you don’t say 
so, old neighbor ? Has the people hereabouts — these 
new comers and youngsters — got out a new Bible like 
the Mormons, and sich kind of people ?” 

“No, Giles, that’s not it,” said Wilson, shaking his 


96 


CHATTANOOGA. 


head; ^Hhey’ve got the same old Eible, hut we’ve 
found new meanings that nobody suspected when you 
lived here. Do you know, old friend, that slavery is 
the corner stone of our hull country, and whisky ’s its 
lifeblood?’’ 

‘‘No,” said Giles, “that seems kind of strange 
now” 

“Well, neighbor, take my word for it, it’s jist so, and 
the man that says a word, or writes a book again’ sla- 
very, throws salt on the tail of the ’Merican eagle, and 
will bring that blessed bird down to the ground, so the 
British will ketch it.” 

“Yes,” said Jim Wilson, standing before Giles, and 
putting his long, bony finger cl^se to his face, his eyes 
flashing and his lips compressed, “yes, neighboioy fcthe 
man that says one word agin’ slavery, is a throwin’ 
salt on the ’Merican eagle’s tail, an J will bring it down 
in the dust.’^ "*'***^ 

Tom Giles dropped on the ground, and sat cross- 
legged like a tailor, with his face bent to his knees for 
five minutes without saying a word, and then raised his 
dilated eyes to Wilson, 

“Air you in airnest, Jim Wilson, or air you only a 
tryin’ to make me miserable ?” ^ 

“ Tom Giles I ’m in airnest. I scorn to trifle on sich 
a solemn subject.” 

Giles again covered his face with his hands. “Why,” 
said he, “the ’Merican eagle might fall in the water, 
and come like a half drowned chicken out of awash tub.” 
He covered his face with his hands, and sat in silence 
a moment, and then extended his right hand to Wilson. 
“ Help me up, neighbor, for I ’m mighty weak, and the 
cold chills run down my back like ice — help me up. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


97 


Why, I never, dreampt of any sich thing. In old times 
when I lived here every man as was too poor to own a 
nigger, had the right to be constitutionally and teeto- 
tally fornenst slavery, and them as did own ’em, had 
the right to say they knowed it was wrong, but they 
could not get rid of them. And them as chose to 
drink whisky, could do so ; and them as chose to let it 
alone, could do so.” 

Ah,” said Wilson, shaking his head, and^striking the 
end of his cane hard upon the ground, times is altered 
now. Slavery is the corner stone of this glorious Re- 
public, ^‘and w’^hisky’s its life blood. The man that’s 
opposed to them is an inemy to his country, and a 
friend to the British. :>The Bible ’s down on all sich 
people, you know, neighbor.” 

/‘Yes,” said Giles, “I know that; let me take your 
arm neighbor, for I’m so weak, I can hardly walk. 
The cold chills run down my back, so that I ’m afeered 
I ’ll have the ague.” 

Tom walked about fifty yards, and then sat down. 
“I’m so weak, Jim Wilson,” said he, “that I can’t 
walk a step further ; only think that here I ’ve bin 
three days a helping a Yankee to split the Union.” 
Wilson waited awhile, but as Giles grew worse, he went 
to the tavern and got the landlord, to come and help him 
to the house. After consultation, they made a litter — - 
put Giles on it, and bore him softly along. As they 
went, the old man murmured from time to time, “ Only 
to think, that me, Tom Giles, has been a throwing of 
salt on the ’Merican eagle’s blessed tail, and splitting 
the Union. Who ’d have thought that of Tom Giles, 
when he were blazing away at the British at New 
Orleans under Gineral Jackson. Who’d have thought 


98 


CHATTANOOGA. 


it of me — that has always loved my country more nor 
my wife nor children/^ 

Wilson and the landlord bore Giles along on the lit- 
ter, his feet foremost toward the tavern, when Giles 
made a sign with his hand for them to stop. They 
rested one end of the litter on a large log, and the other 
end on the ground, so as to place Giles in a half recum- 
bent position. He wiped the cold sweat from his for- 
head with the end of his hunting dress. Neighbor,’^ 
said he, when I were a young man, I heerd Tommy 
Littlejohn make a fourth of July norration. It were 
while he were studying to be a lawyer, and a member 
of Congress on the Chowan River, and it were printed 
in the Genius of Liberty, and I liked it so much, that 
I got a good part of it by heart, and remember it till 
this day, only my mind so scattered now, that I can’t 
call it up. I ’ve said it over to myself a hundred times 
when I were walking in the woods a hunting. ’Ef I 
only could say it now, it ’pears to me it would do me 
good.” 

“Do try and remember it now, neighbor Giles,” 
said Wilson. “Do try, for I’m consarned for you.” 

“Take time to collect your thoughts,” said the 
landlord. “ It may do you good to remember it.” 

Giles paused and rubbed his forhead with his hand. 
“I can’t get exactly right, and its no use to try now; 
but it were something like this : ‘ While the ’Merican 
eagle were a little bird in the shell, he chirped Liberty, 
and when he picked a hole in the shell jist big enough 
to stick his bill through, he hollowed for Liberty; and 
the very day he were hatched, he flew away with some 
of the egg shell sticking on his back — screaming Lib- 
erty — Liberty for ever. And ever since he’s been 


CHATTANOOGA. 


99 


buisy gouging out tyrant’s eyes with his bill, and 
tearing the iniinies of freedom with his claws.’ That’s 
all I mind now,” said Giles, “but little as it is, I feel 
better.” 

They took Giles on the litter to the tavern, and 
bathed his legs in hot whisky and red pepper, and 
gave him some whisky to drink. After awhile he got 
better, received his pay from Mr. Strong, and went 
home with Wilson. Lorc. 


CHAPTEE XIII. 


Huldah’s father had been a gentleman in his early 
life, but he became a drunkard and abandoned his 
family and friends, and wandered off to a county 
in Virginia, ^his native state, a hundred miles from 
his home. He earned a scanty subsistance by teach- 
ing school sometimes, and at other times by crying 
sales for administrators, and carrying the chain for 
surveyors. He became acquainted with Huldah’s 
mother and was the father of four of her chil- 
dren. 

He was out of the neighborhood when the fam- 
ily were sold, and afterward when he heard of their 
fate, he followed them from place to place on foot, 
hoping in vain to overtake them. He found Isaac, 
Huldah’s oldest brother, still in the slave pen in 
Charleston, and learned from him the name and 
home of her purchaser. The other members of the 
family had been sold, some of them in North Carolina, 
on their journey, and others to purchasers who had ta- 
ken them — Isaac could not tell where. 

He then journeyed on foot on his way to Nortons 
until he come to Grey Eagle’s camp, which he reached 
soon after Huldah came to Nortons. When he got there 
his feet were bare and sore, his clothes were tat- 
tered and his face and eyes inflamed and swollen 
from drunkenness. , 

The Indians are not remarkable for discrimina- 


CHATTANOOGA. 


101 


tion in their hospitality. All alike are welcome to 
their encampments in times of plenty and of peace. 
All alike are foes if they are of the nation or tribe 
with which they are at war. 

Grey Eagle invited the stranger to his hut, and soon 
found that the poor outcast had been educated and des- 
tined for a better position in life than that which seemed 
to be his fate. 

They talked upon subjects of general interest, then 
of poetry and romance and history, until his guest, by 
his manners and intelligence, fully established his claim 
as a gentleman of birth and education. Fortune, he said, 
he once had, and friends, but his fortune had fled 
and his friends had forgotten him. 

He refused, at first, to tell his name, but after the 
inquiry was repeated, he gave a name which the pene- 
tration of Grey Eagle instantly discovered was fictitious. 

My name,'’ said he, ‘Gs Edward Corliss. My fa- 
ther was Richard Corliss, and my grandfather, John 
Corliss, all of Acton, in Cecil County, Maryland, where 
my friends and relations still reside." 

As soon as Grey Eagle discovered that his guest was 
not frank with him, he became reserved and answered 
whatever inquiries he made so as to mislead him. 

Corliss was bland and urbane, and apparently frank ; 
and Grey Eagle had need of his services and of his 
society. 

Corliss found means to make himself useful to Grey 
Eaglej and his tribe. He wrote his letters, made up 
his accounts, and attended to details of businsss which 
Grey Eagle was too impatient to encounter. 

Things passed on in this manner for a while. Corliss 
was adopted into the tribe, and assumed the dress of the 


102 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Indian. His few wants were easily supplied. His pas- 
sion for strong drink had either forsaken him or was 
lulled into repose. He grew into favor by degrees, un- 
til Grey Eagle called him his friend. 

One day, as they were hunting in the woods, Corliss 
said, I have something that I wish to say to you.’’ 

‘‘ Say on,” said Grey Eagle. 

I want a favor.” 

You shall have it if I can grant it. Do you want 
a wife or lands?” 

Neither.” 

Do you want money ? ” 

No.” 

^‘Whatisit?” 

‘‘I want you to help me.” 

‘^Help you; how?” 

There is a slave on a plantation near this place. I 
want to get her.” 

‘‘ On whose plantation? ” 

On Norton’s.” 

‘‘How do you know it? ” 

“ She and her mother and two brothers were sold to 
a trader. I followed them to Charleston and found the 
oldest brother there. He told me where Huldah is.” 

“ Have you seen her since she has been there?” 

“Yes, I hid myself near Norton’s house, and after 
watching nearly all day, I saw her go to a spring for 
water and return to the house.” 

“Why do you want her? ” 

“I have always loved her. It seems to me that I ’ll 
die if I can not get her and make her free. That is now 
the object of my life. It is this that brought me to 
your hut, and for which I have changed my name. ” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


103 


Why did you change it ? ” 

Because, if I told my true name 1 might defeat my 
purpose.” 

Right,” said Grey Eagle, a good Captain never 
says anything nor does anything that may defeat 
him in battle. Cannot you buy her from Norton?” 

‘‘No, I am too poor. I have wasted my estate, 
and have nothing.” 

“ I will help you, if I can. But let us walk on. 
Grey Eagle always, if he can, sleeps one night, maybe 
two, maybe three, before he make up his plan.” 

Three nights passed, and early in, the morning 
Grey Eagle approached the hut occupied by Corliss. 

“ Come, let’s hunt to-day.” 

They were soon prepared, and when they had gone 
far into the woods, Grey Eagle stopped. 

“ My plan is made up. I will get Huldah for you.” 

In the evening of the same day, Isham came to the 
camp with his basket of roots and herbs on his arm. 
He went into the woods with Grey Eagle, and after 
a long and earnest conference, went away, and 
Grey Eagle returned silent and moodily to his hut. 
No one inquired the object of Isham’s visit — no one 
dared to do so. 

One Indian said that he had seen them convers- 
ing together in the woods two days before; but he 
did not know what they were talking about.” 


CHAPTEK XIY. 


Grey Eagle renewed his visit to Corliss and his daugh- 
ter, at the appointed time, and was surprised to find 
his reception less . cordial than it was before. Corliss, 
indeed, was polite, but constrained and reserved. Grey 
Eagle instantly observed his change of manner. 

After a constrained conversation for half an hour. 
Grey Eagle adroitly turned it to the subject of Huldah's 
escape, and said, ‘‘they have been out hunting for 
Huldah. Norton headed the party, and came through 
our encampment. Unless your daughter is very 
careful, she may be discovered and captured. It 
will not do for me or for my tribe to make open 
resistance to any attempt to take her if she is found. 
Would it not be well if I should buy her and then 
she will be safe and free ? 

Corliss sighed and rested his head upon his hand. 

“ I do not know what to do,’^ he said. 

“ I know what to do, if you wdll leave the whole 
matter with me. I can buy her cheap now.'^ 

Corliss sighed again, and half shuddered as Grey 
Eagle uttered the word “ cheap. 

“ No,’^ said he, “ I can not consent that any man 
shall buy my child.’’ 

“ That will secure her freedom.” 

“Yes,” said Corliss, his face coloring, “it may do so, 
but I never will consent to it. I shudder at the very 
thought of such a thing.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


105 


^^What will you do then?*’ 
will flee.” 

Where?” 

‘‘I do not know — any where — so that we can be 
safe. To the everglades of Florida, or, perhaps, to 
the snows of Canada.” 

‘‘ Think of it again, and let me know. You may do 
better than either for your daughter and yourself.’’ 

The young chief remained in the hut till a late hour 
in the night, and exerted himself to please Huldah and 
her father. When he went away Corliss said, ‘‘ Hal- 
dah, I do not like these visits of Grey Eagle.” 

Why not, father ? He is so pleasant, I like to 
hear him talk to you.” 

‘‘ He is pleasant, but he is an Indian, my child.” 

‘‘Well, what of that? He has always been an 
Indian, and can’t help it. You once liked his com- 
pany very much : he has been the best friend we 
ever had.” 

“ Yes, Huldah.” 

“ When he came to see you some time ago, you 
were glad to see him, father. Has he done any-,’ 
thing which makes him unwelcome now, or less 
worthy than he' used to be?” 

“ No, child ; he came to see me then. He came to 
see you to-day. No Huldah.” 

They were sitting in darkness, and Corliss did not 
see the blush that mounted upon Huldah’s face. 

“ Huldah, you must not encourage his visits. I can 
not endure the thought that you shall marry any other 
than a white man.” 

“ Oh, I am sure, father, that you are mistaken in the 
object of his visits. He never said a word to me 


106 


CHATTANOOGA. 


that would show any such purpose as you conjec- 
ture. Indeed he has hardly ever condescended to 
speak to me at all until to-night. You need not 
fear anything of that kind. He made me some pres- 
ents it is true.’' 

‘‘ But I do fear it. I tremble at it, and believe I am 
not mistaken.” 

‘^Father, Grey Eagle is the one who has secured 
my freedom. He gave us our home, and has been 
the cause of our being as comfortable and happy 
as we now are." 

^‘Yes, child; but W’ould it not be returning him 
too much for those favors if you should become his 
wife ? He is an Indian.” 

“ You forget, father, that I am not white and am a 
slave." 

^•True, true," said Corliss, in a half whisper. ‘^My 
child is not white, and — she is a slave." 

Early the next morning an Indian boy came to the 
hmt, and placed a letter in Huldah's hands, so adroitly 
that her father did not see it. She read it at her first 
opportunity to do so, when no one saw her. 

‘‘ Huldah is the bird that must sing in Grey Eagle's 
nest, whether he builds it on the top of the moun- 
tain, or in the prairies covered with flowers that 
spread out beyond the father of waters toward the 
setting sun. Grey Eagle's mother has told him of Hul- 
dah, and he loves her, and will make her his wife if she 
will follow him, and sing in his cabin, and dress the 
deer that he kills in the wood for his food. Your 
father don’t like me. White man like Indian well 
enough when he is in trouble, but when Indian help 
him out, then he forgets him and says he's only an In- 


chatt!^.nooga. 


107 


dian. If Huldah don’t want to see Grey Eagle again 
she will never look upon his face. If she would like 
to see him and talk with him, she will put a piece of 
white ribbon in her belt, and Grey Eagle will see it 
when he comes to her father’s hut to-day.” 

Huldah read the letter, and put it in her bosom. 

What shall she do ? If she puts the piece of ribbon 
in her belt she will see him once more. If it is not there 
when he comes, she will never look upon his face again. 

She went to a little box in which she kept her scanty 
wardrobe, and took out a small piece of white ribbon. 
Her blanket was fastened tightly around her form by a 
black morocco belt. She held the ribbon in her hand, 
and looked at it, and looked at her belt. Shall she 
place it there ? The act itself is trifling, but what 
may result from it may not be trifling. 

Alas, poor Huldah, the whole history of her future 
life was written upon that little piece of ribbon, in 
letters invisible, indeed, to mortal eyes, but in charac- 
ters of fire and blood. She saw nothing but a scrap 
of unsoiled ribbon. Could she have seen what else 
was written there, she would have dropped it and fled 
from it as from a serpent of fire. 

She held the ribbon in her hand and stood still and 
thought — if she placed it in her belt she would see him 
again. If she did not — and as she heard approach- 
ing footsteps — she placed it in her belt. 

Grey Eagle gave but a glance at Huldah, and at the 
ribbon, and talked for half an hour with her father and 
went away. 

Huldah was glad when he left them. She felt con- 
strained and embarrassed while he was there. He did 
not talk to her, and, as far as she knew, did not look at 


108 


CHATTANOOGA. 


her as she sat quietly sewing in a corner of the -cabin. 
She loved his society, and yet was glad when he left 
them. 

After that a change came over the character of Hul- 
dah. She was no longer the gay laughing girl that sang 
in her father’s hut, and laughed and skipped lightly as a 
bird across the floor. She was not morose nor sad, but 
sober and thoughtful. It seemed as if her future life 
had cast its deep dark shadow across her face. 

Corliss' fears appeared to have been lulled by the last 
visit of Grey Eagle. 

The impetuous Indian soon came again to their cabin, 
and his conduct now showed that he was determined to 
win or loose at once the prize he sought. 

I have not time,” he said to Corliss, ‘Ho lose. My 
duties require me to be with my people. I love your 
daughter, and want to make her my wife.” 

Corliss sighed, and was silent. 

I know it all,’’ he continued. ‘‘ You are a white man 
and I an Indian. If I were a white Chief in one of 
your states would you object ? ” 

No.” 

Grey Eagle is too proud to call any man his father 
unless he is heartily welcome to do so. When you 
were hungry, I gave you bread ; when you were sick, I 
nursed you; when your child was a slave, I made 
her free; yet, I would scorn to take her as a re- 
compense for these acts of friendship. If I can not have 
her heart, and your heart too, keep her until you 
find a braver and a better man, as a husband for your 
daughter.” 

You have been very kind to me, for which I am not 
ungrateful.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


^ 109 


i 

j 

I 


‘‘I do not want your gratitude/' 

Corliss was silent. ^ 

“ Grey Eagle knows no man who is above him. The 
Great Spirit only is his master. He will not stoop to 
beg, even a beautiful bride, when he loves her as he 
loves his own soul. His lips have never been taught 
words of flattery to woman, nor of supplication to man. 
He stands before you as an equal, or leaves you forever. 
What will you do? Speak, I am waiting to hear." 

‘‘Have you Huldah’s consent?" 

“ No, I came first to you. That is the custom of my 
tribe. I enforce and obey our laws." 

Corliss was silent. 

“ You think the Indian is not the equal of the white 
man. Have you not come to live among us and put on 
the blanket and the moccasin ; and are you not our 
brother?" 

“Yes." 

Grey Eagle's eyes brightened, and his cheeks flushed. 

“What then is in the way ? " 

“ Let me think on it a w^eek, and I will answer you.'’ 

“ Right — Grey Eagle will come in a week." 

Grey Eagle returned. Corliss received him more 
cordially than before, and Grey Eagle saw at a glance 
that his scruples were removed. 

Huldah came into the hut soon after he arrived, 
trembling and blushing as she extended her hand to 
him. He seized it, drew her to him, embraced and 
kissed her. 

A few days afterwards a crowd of Indians were gath- 
ered around Corliss’ hut, and a missionary who had long 
been living with the tribe, united Grey Eagle and Hul- 
dah in marriage. 


110 


CHATTANOOGA. 


It is not part of our narrative to discribe the rude 
festivities of the day ? 

The next day Grey Eagle and his bride, accompanied 
by her father, returned to the encampment at which 
his mother lived. 


CHAPTER XV. 


About three years after the wedding, as Norton was 
walking one day in the woods near his plantation, he 
met Tom Giles. It was not their first meeting. Giles 
stretched out his great hand to him: ‘‘I’m glad to 
see you, captain, cause you ’re one of us.” 

“ Thank you, Giles. I am glad that my neighbors 
like me,” shaking Giles heartily by the hand. “Let 
us take a seat on this stump and talk awhile, if you 
have nothing better to do.” 

“ Oh, captain, Tom Giles has nothing to do but tend 
a little patch of corn, and hunt. I ’m never in a hurry, 
and can always spare an hour or so for a chat with ' a 
neighbor.” 

“Take a pinch of snuff,” said Norton, passing a box 
to him. 

“Thankee, sir; mighty nice. Well, you see, captain, 
we ’ve bin looking at you, and talking about you, and 
we kind of think you T1 do. That other man over 
thar,” pointing in the direction of Rashleigh’s house, 
“won’t do at all. He won’t have black niggers, and 
has got a parcel of white niggers about him to do his 
work. The captain thar is a queer one ; every morn- 
ing he calls all his people up to a great room, which 
they call a ’all, and reads prars to ’em out of a book, 
and on Sunday morning he reads prars and then stands 
up, and reads a sarmon to ’em out of another book he ’s 
got. We’ve stood it as long as we could; but he’s kept 


112 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the whole settlement in hot water, as long as he ’s bin. 
here. One thing arter another has come out about 
him, till the neighbors are all the time in an uproar. 
First his reading prars, then his reading sarmons, and 
then his having white folks to do nigger’s work, and to 
wait on him while he eats, and sich like, till the boys 
here caught a short, fat feller of ’em, and treated him 
to a coat of tar and feathers. But they won’t go away ; 
they ’re still thar yet, and what ’s to be done next, we 
don’t know.” 

‘‘Does he disturb any one in the settlement?” said 
Norton. 

“ Disturb any one ? Why, I tell you, captain, the 
whole country has been in an uproar for miles ’round 
him, ever since he has bin here. How can people live 
in peace, when they have white people doing nigger’s 
work?” 

“Did he ever say any thing against any of his neigh- 
borsj or do any thing to injure any person ?” 

“ Why, as to that, I can’t say as he has, that I ever 
heerd of. But he ain’f ’ sociable, and don’t do as we 
do.” 

“I see now what the matter is,” said Norton, “he 
had no tact.” 

“I can’t see, captain, how that could make any dif- 
ference, and you ’re mistaken, captain ; he had a whole 
keg full of tacks. He brought his things out here in a 
string of six boss wagons. Wash McGee — that’s my 
brother-in-law — stood by while they were unloadin’ 
them and see the whole, and he ’ll swar that thar was 
one keg full of nothing else but tacks. The captain 
come Out,^ and McGee said to him, ‘ I reckon you ’re 
gwine to k^eg a store down at the cross roads — ain’t 


CHATTANOOGA. 


113 


you?' And the captain looked at him for a minute 
and never said a word, and then put his thumb in the 
arm hole of his waistcoat, and walked back in the 
house." 

“ I mean,” said Norton, that he does not conduct 
himself as the people do in this country.” 

‘‘Exactly so, captain, you’re right thar. It’s a high 
law in this settlement, that ‘ when you are in Rome you 
must do as Rome does.' And he never will mind that 
law at all.'’ 

“That's a law everywhere,'’ said Norton, “among 
all men, and in all countries, and in every city and 
town, and village, and in every art and occupation of 
life. The penalties for its violation are severe, and are 
always visited upon the offender. It is above all other 
laws, and all constitutions. You must conform to the 
opinions and usages of the country in which you are, 
or be excluded from the society of your race.'’ 

“ Give me yoiir hand,” said Tom Giles, leaping up, 
and violently shaking Norton’s hand; ‘^yoic talk like a 
man of sense — indeed you do. It does me good to meet 
a man arter my own heart. The fellow won’t neighbor 
with us at all. He '11 neither borrow nor lend, ’cept 
trifles. You '11 lend to a neighbor sometimes, won’t you, 
captain ?” 

“Certainly; but I make it a rule not to lend to a 
man who won’t bring back what I lend him, and lend to 
me in return.” 

“You ’re right thar again, captain. A man as won't 
lend, hisself has no right to borrow. Good day, cap- 
tain.” 

“ Good day,” said Norton ; and each Tvent his way. 

About a week after this interview, Tom Giles came 
10 


114 


CHATTANOOGA. 


early one morning to Norton’s. I ’ve come to ask a 
little bit of a favor of you, captain.” 

‘‘ I shall be happy to oblige you, Mr. Giles.’^ 

^‘Well, sir, its jest this. Polly — that’s my wife — is 
kind of weakly. She were here two days ago, and 
seen that big looking-glass, (pointing to a large mir- 
ror) and would like to borrow it for to-day — only for 
to-day, captain. She 's tuk a notion it will do her 
good, ’cause when she was here she looked in it, and 
said she saw herself from head to foot at once, and 
arter that she felt better of a pain in the small of her 
back, that she 's subject to. It ’s coming on again, and 
she wants to set and look in the thing all day. She ’s 
sure it will cure her.” 

I will be very glad if it does so, Mr. Giles; take 
the glass, Mr. Giles. I shall be very glad to hear that 
it has cured Mrs. Giles.” 

Tom tried to take the glass from its position on the 
wall, but could not do so. Two colored men were then 
called, and it was taken down. But how was he to 
carry it ? It was too wide to be grasped in his arms, 
and too heavy to be carried on his head. 

‘^Captain,” said he, “if you’ll lend me a rope, I can 
have it strapped on my back, and then I can tote it 
easy enough.” 

A rope was brought, and the glass was strapped 
on Giles’ back, with the face outward, and he started 
on his journey, half reeling beneath his heavy load. 

About four hours afterward, Norton went over to 
Tom Giles’ house. It was a log cabin, with but one 
room ; the floor was earth, and the roof covered with 
clapboards, with a fire-place almost the length of the 
house, on the north side, and on the south side of it 


CHATTANOOGA. 


115 


were three beds, raised from the ground by forked 
stakes of wood, with poles placed along them, on 
which were beds filled with straw, and covered with 
dirty and tattered clothing. The mirror was placed, 
between the fire-place and the door, and extended from 
the upper floor to the ground. There was but one chair 
in the cabin, in addition to which were two rude benches 
for seats. 

Mr. Norton found Mrs. Giles before the mirror, 
smiling complacently at the large, fat, red-faced object 
before her ; but, with her smiles, there was also a look 
of gravity, such as a person should have who is taking 
medicine for a painful disease. 

Six little Giles’ stood behind her, with unwashed 
faces, and long, white, uncombed hair, distorting their 
features in all possible ways, and laughing at the ugly 
figures in the mirror. 

Tom Giles was seated on a stool, quietly and gravely 
looking on. 

Good morning, neighbor ; glad to see you agin to- 
day,” said Giles, as he gave Norton his hand;.^-/‘ Git 
up, Pop, and let the gentleman have the cheer.” 

‘^No, thank you, I’d rather stand — let the lady keep 
her seat.” % 

At the word ^Gady” Mrs. Giles stared at Norton, 
and all the little Giles ran into a corner, and tittered 
aloud. 

“Do you feel any better, madam?” said Norton, 
bowing to Mrs. Giles. 

“Considerable better, sir. The pain is left the small 
of my back, and got down in my legs.” 

•“ I do' hope, madam, you will be well soon. I am 
very sorry you are indisposed.”' 


116 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Oh, yes, the rheumatiz is a creeping down by de- 
grees ; it ’s got into my legs, and bine-by it will creep 
out at my toes/’ 

A very easy remedy, madam. May I inquire who 
prescribed it ?” 

Oh, we ain’t got no doctor in these parts. Uncle 
Isham does all the doctrin’ for us.” 

‘‘Your uncle, madam, must be a very skillful man; 
his remedies should be more widely known.” 

“ Oh, he ain’t my uncle. He ^s an old nigger. He 
goes about in the woods, and doctors people with roots 
and toad’s heads, and ground lizards, and tells fortunes, 
and is a wizard. He’s a free man, and has got an old, 
blind Avoman for his wife. I kind of thought he would 
do me good.” 

“Is he a good doctor, madam?” 

“Why, yes. He never killed no body, and don’t 
charge much. I wonder you hain’t seen him ; he lives 
only a little piece from your house.” 

“I have not yet seen him, madam.” 

“ I have come now,” said Norton, “to ask a favor of 
you, Mr. Giles.” 

“ Speak out, captain. I ’ll do any thing I can for 
you in this world.” 

“It’s a great favor, sir, which I do hope you will 
find it convenient to grant me.” 

“Sartanly,” said Tom Giles; “speak it out, captain. 

I ’ll do any thing I possibly can for you.” 

“You have a rifle, Mr. Giles?” 

“ Me a rifle, captain ! Yes, indeed, I have that thing, 
and it ’s the greatest rifle west of Cumberland Moun- 
tains. It hain’t got any silver or ginger-bread fixins 
on it, only a plain warnut stock, and a good lock ; but 


CHATTANOOGA. 


117 


the best barl, captain — the very best barl that mortal 
man ever sot eyes on. It would do you good jest to 
take a look at her.’' 

^^Well,” said Norton, want to borrow (here he 
made a long pause, during which all the young Giles’ 
were hushed into deep silence, and he added, in half a 
whisper,) your rifle.” 

‘‘My rifle, captain ?” 

“Yes, neighbor, I really do wish the loan of your 
rifle for this day. I have none, and want to practice 
so as to be able to chose a good one. I will, then, buyy 
one.” 

“ Captain, it 's not a bit of use practisen for that. 
Judgin’ o’ rifles is a nat’ral gift ; and if a man hain’t 
got that gift, he may practice till he 's as gray as a rat, 
and then he can’t tell a good one from a bad one. 
Thar ’s Wash McGee — he ’s my brother-in-law — he ’s 
been practicin’ all his life, and the other day he wenc 
down to the Muscle Shoals and bought a rifle of a man 
down thar. He gin him two bales of ginseng and five 
dollars to boot for it, and has got a thing he calls a 
rifle. Silver on the stock; silver fixins here and thar 
all over it, and a heap of finery on it, and it looks 
mighty bright and purty ; but I tell you, captain, the 
barrel is as crooked as a laurel walking stick. I ’d be 
a feered to shoot it, for fear the bullet would fly round 
and round, and come back and hit me. And he ’s a 
bragging on it, and a saying it ’s the best rifle in the 
whole settlement. I wouldn’t give a peck of small 
potatoes for it, for my own use I mean. Indeed I 
wouldn’t, captain.” 

“If you will lend me yours to-day, I will see whether 
I have the natural gift you speak of.” 


118 


CHATTANOOGA. 


“ Captain, it ’s out of fix. The lock is out of order. 
Indeed it is, captain.’^ 

Oh, as to that, I have tools and a mechanical talent, 
and can soon put it in order, and return it in a better 
condition than when I got it/' 

Captain, I ’d be mighty glad to obleege you — indeed 
I would, but I’ve lost the bullet moulds. I’ve looked 
all over the cabin for 'em, and can’t find ’em no whar.” 

‘‘Oh, never mind that, I can soon hammer some lead 
into bullets.” 

Tom Giles gave a long, sharp whistle : “ That won't 
never do in this world, captain. If my Purty Betty 
Martin — that’s my rifle’s name — should have such a 
bullet in her, she ’d bust with madness. She never had 
such a bullet shot out in her, in all her days, and it 
wouldn’t do, captain.” 

One of the little Giles, after a loud laugh, covered 
his face with his hands, and turning his head to the 
corner, said: “I knows whar the bullet moulds is.’' 

“Run and get ’em, Martin,” said Mrs. Giles. 

The boy went out and came back with the moulds. 
Tom Giles hung down his head for a moment, and then 
taking up the rifle — “Thar she is, captain. Thar’s 
Betty Martin, the best rifle west of Cumberland 
Mountains.” 

Norton took the rifle and the bullet moulds, and 
bidding Mrs. Giles good morning, went out of the 
cabin 

Tom Giles followed him — “ You 're mighty welcome 
to Purty Betty Martin, captain; take good keer of her — 
will you? If it rains, put the lock under your arm, 
just so,” taking the rifle from the hand of Norton, and 
placing the lock under his arm. “I say, captain, be 


CHATTANOOGA. 


119 


mighty kereful of Purty Betty Martin, if you please, 

I cause the likes of her is not to be found in all these 
' parts.'^ 

I He then quietly handed the gun to Norton, and re- 
turned to his cabin. 

^‘Tom,” said Mrs. Giles, allers told you that 
I you ’ve got no more perliteness nor a bull pup.’’ 

I ‘‘‘What’s the matter, Polly?” said Tom, soothingly. 

“ What ’s the matter, indeed ? Did n’t you borrow 
this here looking-glass this very morning?” 

“ Why, sartainly.” 

“Did the captain seem like as if he didn’t want to 
i| lend it to you?” 

“ Why, no, Polly. He rubbed his hands and said he 
were mighty glad to obleege me.” 

“ Did the captain hem and haw about it, as you did 
to him before his face, about your rifle.” 

I “No, Polly,” said Tom, “he told me to take it the 
minute I axed him.” 

“Tom Giles, I am ashamed of you; you’ll bring 
( disgrace on your family, and make the gentleman 
^ think we ’ve had no raising, and has got no perliteness. 
And then, Tom, sich an example afore your own chil- 
dren. Tom Giles, the pain has got up in the small of 
I my back agin, and it is all owin’ to your want of per- 
liteness.” 

In the evening Tom Giles carried back the mirror, 

I strapped as before upon his back, and followed by half 
I a dozen little Giles’, each making grimaces before it, 
and shouting at the ugly figures in the glass. 

“How is Mrs. Giles now,” said Norton. 

' “ She ’s a leetle better, captain, and would have been 

well, she says, only she got a mighty back set.” 


120 


CHATTANOOGA. 


‘‘I will send a servant over/' said Norton, ‘^with 
your rifle and bullet moulds. I am practicing to get 
ready for the shooting match. 

Ah, captain, are you a cornin’ to our shootin’ match ? 
It 's going to be the biggest that ever was west of Cum- 
berland Mountains. Word has been sent out to Geor- 
gia, and to North Carolina, and South Carolina, and 
Virginny, and way down on Cumberland River, and to 
the settlement at the Muscle Shoals.” 

“When does it come off*?” 

“Next Monday, at noon.’^ 

“I will be there, I hope.” 

“You’ll be mighty welcome, captain. We’ll all be 
glad to see you.” 

The next day Norton borrowed McGee's rifle, and 
shot with it nearly all day. 

Norton's name was soon spread through the settle- 
ment as one of the “finest kind of men,” in terms not 
less exaggerated, than those used to disparage Rash- 
leigh. 

At the appointed time the great shooting match 
took place, but we must reserve this event for a separ- 
ate chapter. 


CHAPTEK XVI. 


The shooting match took place at Job Steel’s tav- 
ern, about the middle of November. Half way up a 
long but not steep hill, by the side of what was then a 
path, but is now a road, was a house made of hewn 
logs, one story high, with three rooms, and a kitchen in 
the rear, and a porch in front. It was a few yards 
back from the road, from which it was separated by 
some rails for a fence, but which was so low that any 
animal could cross it. Attached to a long hickory pole 
was a square white sign, on which was painted a green 
tree, and below were the words ‘‘Entertainment, Job 
Steel.” 

A group of white and colored women were in the rear 
of the house, busily engaged in roasting, boiling, baking, 
frying, and other preparations for the expected guests. 
Two deep trenches had been dug behind the house — 
each about seven feet long and three feet wide — and 
fires had been made in them, which were now burnt 
down to large beds of coals. Poles of green dog-wood 
were laid across the trenches, on which laid huge pieces 
of beef and venison and pork, to roast. At the front 
of the house was a wagon, from which some men were 
unloading several barrels, the heads of which were 
painted a dull red, and on them the words, “Old Eye 
Whisky.” 

The guests soon began to assemble. Some came on 
horseback, others on foot. The wilderness teemed with 
11 


122 


CHATTANOOGA. 


life. From every part of the compass, through the 
woods, down the hills, down the ravines, along the paths 
and over the fields, men and women and hoys and girls 
were gathering into Job SteeFs tavern. Some came 
from Georgia, some from North Carolina, some from 
Virginia, some from Kentucky, others, and they were 
in the greatest number, from Tennessee. The bar- 
room was crowded, and Job Steel and two men and a 
boy were engaged in pouring rye whisky into green 
tumblers and receiving for each gLss three cents. There 
was a great deal of politeness on the occasion. Each 
man when he first came received a glass of whisky, and 
stirred into it, with a pewter teaspoon, a large quantity 
of brown sugar, and took it into an adjoining room to 
some woman or girl who was there. 

There was a great many introductions, each accom- 
panied by the words, Tme mighty glad to make your 
acquaintance, sir,” and a bow. 

The men were clad in hunting-shirts, with leather 
belts around their waists, in which were large butcher- 
knives. Their feet were covered with moccasins, and 
their heads with caps made of raccoon skins. Some of 
the young men wore coarse boots, and hunting-shirts 
made of red flannel. The women were dressed in cali- 
co, with large flaming figures ; red was evidently the 
favorite and fashionable color. Ear-rings graced their 
ears, and strings of blue glass beads adorned their necks. 
Although they were heated with w^alking, many of them 
wore green mittens on their hands. 

We shall not attempt to describe the dinner. Wild 
turkeys and venison abounded. Pies and pickles, beets 
and potatoes, all that the season and the country pro- 
duced, were there in abundance. After dinner the 


CHATTANOOGA. 


123 


bar-room was again crowded, and the tumblers again 
carried to the ladies, and then filled again and drained 
by the men. 

All then went down to the shooting ground. It was 
at the base of the hill, and by the side of a small stream 
of water, which fiowed in a west course ; several rude 
huts had been built for the occasion, and benches made 
of rough boards were placed on logs for seats for the 
guests. 

The target was placed on a white pine board, which 
was about five feet long and six inches wide, and was 
nailed to a large poplar tree. The target was made 
with black paint, near the top of the board, and was 
about the size of a half dollar ; and in the centre was 
pasted a piece of white paper, about a fourth of an inch 
in diameter. The distance was one hundred and fifty 
yards. Half a dollar was to be paid, invariably in 
advance, and each person’s name was placed on a list 
as soon as payment was made, and he fired one shot off- 
hand, in the order in which his name was on the list. 

The firing commenced. Many hit the black mark. 
Every shot went near it, and a few cut the edge of the 
white paper. While it was going on, Norton rode up. 
He attracted general attention, as he was the only man 
who wore a broadcloth coat. He shook hands with all 
his acquaintances, and w^as introduced by Tom Giles, 
with great form, to the strangers. Mrs. Giles and all 
her children were seated on one of the benches, and 
looked on with great complacency. She thought her 
husband was the perlitest man in the crowd.” After 
the ceremony of introduction to the strangers was all 
over, Norton saw Mrs. Giles and inquired the state of 
her health. She thanked him, and replied that ‘^the 


124 


CHATTANOOGA. 


misery in the small of her back was most gone, but she 
had an awful pain in her toes, the big uns ’specially.’* 

“Are they much swelled, madam ? ” 

“ No, thank you, sir, but they*re mighty red, sir.” 

Norton paid his entrance money. He then bor- 
rowed McGee’s rifle, and awaited his turn. All had 
now fired. The white paper had been cut on all 
sides, so that but a very small part of it was left, 
and the black mark had been so perforated with bullets 
that the one that fired last did so with great disadvan- 
tage. 

As this was the last shot on that round, and as 
he W’as an object of general interest, the whole party 
were attentive spectators. At the instant his name was 
called, he was at his place and fired. A shout told 
that he had won the prize. Some hinted that it was a 
chance shot; but the prize was won, and instantly 
handed over to him. It was an old silver watch, which 
would go three days without winding, and said to be of 
great value. He took the watch and was congratulated 
by all present ; then he exchanged it with Job Steel 
for two barrels of whisky, which were brought before 
his friends and the heads knocked in, for the free use 
of the company. 

After shaking hands with the whole party, and after 
he had bought, for the ladies, a barrel of sweet cider, 
and a large quantity of cakes, apples, and candies, from 
a cake woman who was selling from a cart, he rode 
home. 

While they were preparing a fresh target, the men 
gathered in groups and discussed the character and mer- 
its of Norton. Even those who believed he had won 
by a chance shot, were loud in his praise. All agreed 


CHi\TTANOOGA. 


125 


that he was the man to be General of the militia, and 
should represent them either in congress or in the state 
legislature. 

All was now in readiness for the second round. No 
one as yet had been informed what the prize was. Bill 
Harris, however, mounted a bench, and said : 

‘‘ Gentlemen 

All the men took off their caps. 

‘‘ Mr. Norton, the gentleman what won the watch, is 
a rich planter, and can afford to give it away ; but what 
he’s done is to be no rule for the rest of us. So to 
keep off all hard feelings, I want it to be agreed on be- 
forehand that whomsoever wins the next prize is to keep 
it and take it home with him, and to take good keer of 
it.” 

All instantly agreed to so reasonable a proposition, 
and the shooting for the second round commenced. 

Wash McGee hit the centre, and won the prize. 

The judges went into one of the huts and brought 
out a mulatto woman, about forty years of age. Her 
face was scarred into ridges by the small-pox, and her 
eye-balls were white : she was blind. 

Some of the men seemed disposed to laugh, but the 
frown on McGee’s brow checked them. The man who 
laughed at him, must fight him. 

The woman was the slave of Bill Harris, and the 
wife of Isham, the negro doctor and fortune-teller and 
conjurer, mentioned by Mrs. Polly Giles to Norton. As 
she was of no value to the owner, she lived with her 
husband, in a hut in the woods, and discharged her 
household duties as best she could. 

■ Other rounds were fired and prizes won ; but we 
must omit a notice of them, as they are not connected 
with our story. 


126 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Tom Giles took neither part nor interest in the sub- 
sequent rounds. He went a hundred yards from the 
scene, and sat thoughtfully and alone upon a log. One 
of his friends who had fired and failed on the second 
round, went up to him and sat by his side. 

You seem kind a down hearted, to-day, Mr. Giles. 

Yes, indeed, I am. My heart is a most broke.” 

‘‘Whafs the matter? You don’t care about not 
winning? You’ve won so often at shootin’ matches 
that it’s high time you had a change of luck.” 

Ah ! ” said Tom, with a deep sigh, ‘‘it’s not that, 
but it’s because my rifle, my “ Purty Betty Martin,” is 
disgraced afore the whole settlement^ and it’s jist my 
own fault. If she’d a bin beat by any other rifle on the 
ground, I would not have keered, but to be beat twice 
by that thar shootin’ iron of Wash McGees, that’s as 
crooked as a laurel walking stick, that’s the pint as 
hurts me. And it’s all owin’ to my not minding of a 
sarmon.” 

“What sarmon do you mean, Giles?” 

“ One that I heered ten years ago, on the Chowan 
river, in North Carolina, afore I moved out here. It 
were by Elder Sutton, at a great association, and bein’ 
as it was the big sarmon, and he was the great preacher, 
it was preached on Sunday mornin’, and I went five 
miles to hear it.” 

“ What was it about, Mr. Giles ?” 

“ Why, you see, it were about Solomon, the smart- 
est man that ever was, or ever will be, in this world, and 
he were tee-totally ruined by mindin’ his wife. He 
minded his wife, and one streak of bad luck arter an- 
other come on him, till he got broke up and were tee- 
totally ruined. It’s jist the same case with me here \ 
to-day. I minded my wife and *now I’lh ruined.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


127 


“ How so, neighbor ? 

I ‘^Why, you see, Pop’s got a thunderin’ pain in the 
small of her back, and nothing would do her but she 
I must' have a great big looking-glass that Norton has 
got, brought over to our house, and she set afore it all 
I day. I tried my best to perswade her out of it, and 
wanted her to take snake root or some other yarb tea ; 
I but no, she fretted and fumed, till at last I went 
and borroed it for her. I most broke my back in totin’ 
it, and I’ve had a crick in it ever since. Being 
as I borroed from Norton, I was bound to lend to him 
1 agin, and he came over the very same day and borroed 
my rifle.” 

‘^Did he hurt it?” 

‘^Not a bit. It looked just as good when he sent 
it home as when he got it, but the charm was gone. I 
were warned of it afore I lent it to him. I never hated 
anything so bad in my life as to lend it, because, you 
see, I met old Isham in the woods one day, and he looked 
at my rifle and told me if ever I lent it, it would never 
win again, and what he told me w come true.” 

It may not be amiss to state in this place — for the 
purpose of showing the dilligence of Mr. Strong in col- 
lecting his materials for this book, and the care he has 
taken to have all his facts accurately stated — and to con- 
vince the reader how fully he may rely upon their sub- 
stantial accuracy — that after he had made inquiry of 
Giles, but in vain, to learn the text from which the ser- 
mon he referred to was preached, by Elder Sutton, on 
the Chowan river, in North Carolina, he made a jour- 
ney of several hundred miles to the place trom which 
Tom Giles emigrated, and there, after diligent inquiry, 
he found one, and but one, person — an aged baptist 


128 


CHATTANOOGA. 


'woman — who was at the association, and heard the ser- 
mon referred to. It was from the text, And it came to 
pass when Solomon was old his wives turned away his 
heart after other gods,'’ 1st Kings, XI Chapter, 4th 
verse. 

This great error of Giles' is but one of a thousand 
instances constantly occurring, which induces us to ask, 
we trust not with unbecoming impatience, ‘‘ When will 
ministers learn to adapt their language to the capacity 
of their hearers ? 

We hope the lesson will neither be overlooked nor for- 
gotten. A word to the wise. 


CHAPTER XYII. 


When McGee took his prize home, his wife, who had 
been detained by a toothache from going to the shoot- 
ing match, received it with a shout of laughter. And 
so Wash,’' said that amiable lady, ^‘you've won a 
prize, have you, with your new rifle to-day? Well, I 
’mire its beauty, but do you think I 'm going to take 
care of that thar old blind nigger ?" 

‘‘ I pledged myself afore I won the prize, to take it 
home and take good keer of it; so thar’s no help for 
it now/' 

^‘What did you do it for? You might have been 
sure there was some trick in the thing, or such a pledge 
would not have been asked for. Who ever heard of such 
a thing afore, as a man being asked to pledge his word 
to take keer of a prize ?” 

‘‘Well, Katy, it’s too late to talk now. We all 
made the same bargain; any one who won would have 
had to do just what I ’ve got to do.” 

“Well, what will you do? I’ve got no room in this 
cabin for this old creeter." 

“I don’t know what to do, Katy. I never was so 
put to my wits end in all my life afore. What to do, 
I don’t know.” 

“Why, let the old thing go back to her husband, and 
live with him in his cabin in the woods, just as she has 
been a doing, and tell all as asks you that you would 
have been willing to take keer of her, accordin’ to 

( 129 ) 


130 


CHATTANOOGA. 


promise, only your wife wouldn’t let you. 1 ^ve made 
no sich promise, and I guess it will be a long time 
afore I am caught in sich a trap as that, I can tell 
you.’’ 

‘‘Tell the men my wife wouldn’t let me?” said 
McGee. 

“Yes ; tell ’em what you know is the truth, and you 
might as well own it at first as last.” 

“But, Katy, it will expose me.” 

“Not so much as you think for. I guess thar’s 
more nor one man in this world as can’t do jist as he 
pleases inside the cabin.” 

McGee sighed and sat down on an empty bee-hive. 

“Well, Katy, I guess it’s all I can do, any how.” 

Minna was standing silent in the middle of the room 
during this conversation, with her hands folded across 
her breast. She turned her white eye balls from time 
to time toward the speakers, as if she was. looking at 
them, and sighed. 

“Minna,” said Mrs. McGee, “we can’t keep you 
here. We’ve no room for you in our cabin.” 

‘"Well, ma’m,” replied Minna, “what is I to do?” 

“You must go back to whar you come from.” 

“To my husband.” 

“Yes.” 

“Thank you, ma’m ; me and him has lived long time 
wid one another, and he ’ll take care of me. When 
must I go, missus ?” 

“ Go now — as quick as you please.” 

“Missus, ken you send some body along wid me, to 
show me the way — ’taint far, I believe.” 

“Thar now. Wash, you see what’s to be done. 
You’ve wpn the prize of leadin’ a blind nigger about for 


CHATTANOOGA. 


131 


the balance of your life. A new rifle is a great thing, 

I I must confess/^ 

‘‘No, ma’m,’^ said Minna, faintly and meekly. ‘“’Ef 
I ken only get to my own little hut, I ^11 never be any 
trouble to him again/' 

I Mrs. McGree went to the door, and called three times 
very loudly — “ George Washington — George Washing- 
I ton — George Washington." 

The third call was replied to by the interesting 
inquiry, 

“ What the devil do you want with me 

“Come here this minute." 

“I can’t. I’m a hulling warnits.” 

Mrs. McGee rushed to a tree, and began to tear some 
branches from it, and, at the same time, the sound of 
rapid footsteps and a loud laugh, were heard from 
George Washington, who was ingloriously beating a re- 
treat. 

She then called as loudly as before — “ Pola Bona- 
parte — Pola Bonaparte — Pola Bonaparte." 

Pola Bonaparte was more dutiful than George Wash- 
ington, and came to the door. 

“ What do you want, old woman ?" 
j “ Your Pap ’s been to the shootin’ match, and has 
I won old blind Minna, and fetched her home here on us. 
You must carry the old thing back to her hut.” 

“ Can’t — ain’t got time — do it yourself.” 

“If you don’t do it right away. I’ll knock your 
blamed brains out ; so don’t let me hear another word 
out in your mouth.” 

“Why, ma’m,” said Pola Bonaparte, a lad about ten 
^ years old, with his hair glued up into knots with molasses, 
an old sugar-loaf, white wool hat on his head, and both 


132 


CHATTANOOGA. 


liis hands thrust to the bottom of the pockets in his 
trowsers, do you think I am going to disgrace myself 
with leading a blind nigger ? It ’s onreasonable. Do 
it yourself, and then you ’ll know it ’s done right,” and 
Pola thrust his hands deeper in his pockets, put his hat 
on the side of his head, and walked off whistling Hail 
Columbia. 

‘‘Wash,” said Mrs. McGee, “you’ve fetched this 
wench here, and you Ve got to take her home yourself, 
cause you see my children is too spirited to demean 
themselves with any such thing, and I can’t impose on 
the young ’uns. You ’d better start quick and have it 
over with as soon as you ken.” 

McGee took his hat and led Minna to her hut. 

About a year after the prize had been won, George 
Washington came one day in breathless haste to his 
mother : “ What do you think, old woman ?” 

“What, Georgey?” 

“It’s about old Isham and blind Minna.” 

“I don’t know; I have not seen ’em nor heerd of ’em 
for a year, and I don’t care if I never see nor hear of 
’em again.” 

“Well, I was thar at their hut jest now, and what do 
you think ?” 

“I don’t know, George Washington, so you must 
tell.” 

“Well, I wish I may be busted in ten thousand 
pieces, if she aint got a baby — a little boy, two weeks 
old.” 

“Old Minna — a bajl^y?” 

“Yes; I seen it myself a laying on her lap, and she 
a laughing over it, and old Isham a laughing too, and 
chucking the little thing under the chin. They ’ve got 


CHATTANOOGA, 


133 


a cradle for it, made out of a Split log, and lined with 
I hay and some old clothes.” 

The year had been a lucky one to McGee. During 
j that time he and his wife had become members of a 
new Baptist church, recently established in the neigh- 
borhood. 

Minna was a Methodist, and the Kev. Theophilus 
Blowhard was the preacher on the circuit, and had been 
condescending enough one Sabbath after service, and 
after he had baptized the white children offered for 
baptism, to state that as our colored brethren have 
souls as well as white people, he would baptize any 
colored children of members that might be presented 
for the ordinance. This he said with a look of such 
great condescension, that the -whole congregation thought 
him as meek as a lamb. 

Minna, led by her husband, and carrying her child 
in her arms, walked humbly up the aisle to the pulpit 
steps, and the Rev. gentleman was about to administer 
the rite, when a brother whispered to him. 

Brother Tompkins tells me you are a slave 
Yes, master.” 

‘‘And that your master is a Baptist?” 

“Yes, master.” 

“ Have you asked his consent to have your child bap- 
tized. It may be,” said the preacher, with an arch 
smile, at which all the congregation smiled also, “that 
he will have it taken to a duck pond, and plunged under 
head and ears.” 

“I have not said any thing to him about it; though 
he ’s my master, he lets me do just as I please. I lives 
with my husband here, and he and me wants our baby 
baptized.” 


134 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Isham made a low bow to the minister, and said: 

Yes, sarr.'^ 

“We had better defer it for the present, until you 
can see your master. We must all be careful to do 
nothing, — we must all be careful, brethren and sisters, 
said the old man, “ to do nothing to give offense to our 
brothers and sisters, (for they are our brothers and sis-, 
ters, raising his voice still higher though they don^t 
believe in the blessed doctrine of free grace) of other 
denominations of Christians. We must be very care- 
ful,'^ said the old man, shaking his head, and turning 
to remount the pulpit steps. 

The brother again went up to the minister and told 
him that Mr. McGee was, perhaps, at the Baptist 
meeting-house, which he would have to pass on his road 
to the place where he was to take his dinner. 

“Well, then,’’ said the Rev. Mr. Blowhard, “if you 
will take the child by the Baptist meeting-house, I will 
meet you thar, and if your master will consent, I ’ll 
baptize it right in the face of all the Baptists in this 
settlement, and thank the Lord for the blessed privilege 
of doing so.” 

The congregation all smiled again, and Minna and her 
husband started on foot across the fields for the Baptist 
meeting-house, while the Rev. Mr. Blowhard, accom- 
panied by two brothers, went on horseback to the same 
place, slowly along the road. 

Isham and his wife were at the meeting-house when 
Mr. Blowhard and his companions got there. The ser- 
vices were not yet over. An agent from Charleston, 
who was traveling for the purpose of arousing the 
churches to greater effort in behalf of the cause of for- 
eign missions, was there, and his remarks, following 


CHATTANOOGA. 


135 


the regular sermon and other services, caused the meet- 
ing to be extended to a greater length than usual. 

Isham and his wife waited under a tree near the 
meeting-house, and Mr. Blowhard and his companions 
dismounted, and hitched their horses, and seated them- 
selves on a horse block. At length the hum of voices 
and the shuffling of feet announced that the meeting 
was over. 

“ You must go and ask your master now,’^ said Mr. 
Blowhard to Minna. 

Can’t you go with me, master ? May be if you ’ll 
say a word or two to him, he’ll be willin’ for your sake, 
when he wouldn’t for me.” 

‘‘L had rather not. You must get your master’s 
consent, and then I am ready to administer the 
rite.” 

But the companions of Mr. Blowhard looked at each 
other so significantly, that the reverend gentleman 
added — ‘^‘Yes, yes, I will go with you.” 

Mr. McGee, accompanied by the Bev. Mr. Bean, the 
agent, and by Elder Hawkins, his pastor, came out of 
the house after nearly all the others. 

Minna approached them with the child in her arms. 
The gentlemen stopped and a crowd collected around 
them. 

^‘Please, master,” said Minna, wants my baby to 
be christened, and this here gentleman, who is some- 
whar near by, is willing, provided you is willing for him 
to do it.” 

‘^Yes,” said Mr. Blowhard, “I am willing to admin- 
ister to the child the ordinance of baptism, and it is a 
blessed privilege, — this woman has to dedicate her 
child to the Lord, in its infancy, by baptism, and as 


136 


CHATTANOOGA. 


she has requested it, I have not the heart to refuse it. 
Indeed, brethren, I can not refuse it with a clear con- 
science, unless you interpose, and refuse her the pri- 
vilege. I am so anxious,' and always have been, to 
preserve harmony between different denominations of 
Christians, that I will not baptize the child, if you 
object. The responsibility rests now wholly with 
you.” 

Well,” said Mr. McGee, ‘Mf that ’s all, I’m willing, 
perfectly willing, jist as soon as you show me the text 
in Scripture that allows you to do it.” 

While he was saying this, Mr. Blowhard took the 
child from its mother’s arms, and held it before Mr. 
McGee. 

^‘The text in Scripture,” said Mr. Blowhard, the 
whole Bible is full of ’em. Lydia and her household 
were baptized.” 

‘^Yes,” said McGee, '>n profession of their faith. 
If this child will say it believes, I am willing — perfectly 
willing, for you to baptize it.” 

‘‘It can’t talk yet,” said the mother. 

“Well, then,” said McGee, “I am conscientiously 
opposed to baptizin’ all who are not believers.” 

The agent rubbed his hands, and looked delighted, 
and the eyes of the brethren and sisters sparkled with 

joy. 

“I wash my hands of it,” said Mr. Blowhard. “The 
responsibility, as I told you, at the commencement of 
our conference, rests with you;” after a pause, he 
added, looking around him — “ and with this church and 
congregation.” 

The methodist brothers looked up and smiled. 

The crowd began to disperse, when Mr. Blowhard, 


CHATTANOOGA. 


137 


'i 

I having handed the child to its mother, went alone up to 
Mr. McGee, and half whispered : 

Will you SELL it, brother?’' 
i Yes,” said McGee, “ in course. Tme a raisen it for 
1 1 sale. But I can’t do it on Sabberday.” 

I “ Of course not.” 

I “Ride over to my house to-morrow morning, and 
! we’ll talk the matter over, if you please.” 

“Yes, sir, 1 11 be there by ten o’clock, if not sooner.” 

' An old woman, the mother of Mrs. McGee, pulled 
i the missionary by the sleeve, and took him aside. 
“ Can’t you say a word to brother McGee, to keep him 
from parting this woman and her child ? ” 

“ Parting them ? ” 

Yes ; he will sell that child to the methodist preach- 
! er to-morrov/ morning, unless you tell him not to do so. 

I A word from you will have great weight with him. I 
i am a mother, and feel for the poor old woman. I heard 

I I what has passed between them, and learned enough to 
' know’ that all is agreed on but the price.” 

j “ My dear sister,” spreading out both his hands, 

! “ both of my hands are full of the Lard’s business. I 
j have as much as I can do,” 

“ But you are going home with brother McGee, and 
can drop a word.” 

“ My dear sister, when I came here, it was vdth 
j the determination not to interfere v/ith the legal in- 

I stitutions of the state. I can not turn aside from the 
great work in which I am engaged, of pulling down the 
strong-holds of sin in Burmah, and of preventing the 

I I burning of widows on the funeral piles of their deceased 
!; husbands, and of reforming, as fast as we can, the law’s 

that sustain idolatry in that dark land. It would be an 
abandonment of the work of the Lard to turn aside and 

i 12 

i 


138 


CHATTANOOGA. 


take part in this controversy. Brother McGee is a good 
man, and needs no advice from me. It might be offen- 
sive, and certainly would not be in good taste, if I were 
to obtrude my views upon him.^’ 

I don’t know,'’ said the old woman, how that is. 
It seems to me that you have as good a right to talk to 
an American as to a Hindo, and to a brother in the 
church as to a heathen.” 

“ Yes, sister, all things are right, but all things are 
not expedient. If I should take part in this matter, 
there is no knowing where it will end.” 

“I hope,” said the old woman, ‘‘it will end in pre- 
venting our fellow-christians from being robbed of their 
own offspring.” 

“ That wish, my dear sister, does great credit to your 
heart. I have no doubt you are sincere. I hope the 
Lord will keep you in the path of prudence. My friends 
are waiting for me. My hands are full of the Lard's 
work, sister; I can not meddle with the laws of this 
state ” 

Before ten o'clock the next day, the Reverend The- 
ophilus Blowhard was at Mr. McGee’s. 

“ Well, brother, I have a place to put that child of 
yours in, and will buy it on fair terms. How old is it ? ’' 

“Eighteen months old, sir.” 

“ What will you take for it ? '^ 

“ Three hundred dollars, if I can get it, all in cash ; 
'cause, you see, I want to make a handsome donation 
for foreign missions, and need the money to-day.'’ 

“ Too much, entirely, too much, brother. I’ve made 
up my mind what to offer you for the thing. I have a 
ten acre lot, in a town just laid out, on the Mississippi 
River, in this state. It will be a thriving town in a few 
years, and may be a fortune to your whole family some 


CHATTANOOGA. 139 

day. I’ll give you that, and one hundred dollars for 
the article in question.’^ 

‘‘ Agreed, said McGee.” 

Mr. Blowhard called for writing materials and wrote 
the contract and paid the purchase money. 

While he was doing so, the Eeverend Mr. Bean sat at 
another table, and was writing a letter to his constitu- 
ents in Charleston. He made a report of his journey, 
of the state of religion among the churches he was vis- 
iting, of their interest in the cause of foreign mis- 
sions, and of the amount of money he had collected. 
But he did not report the scene of which he had been 
a witness. The society which he represented did not 
want any information on that subject. 

He then deliberately counted the collection of the 
preceding day, put the half dollars in one pile, and the 
quarter dollars in another and, the smaller coin in an- 
other, made a careful note of the whole, with the names 
of the donors, in a little book which he carried in an in- 
side pocket of his vest. He was doing the Lord’s 
business, and his hands were full. He could not turn 
aside to the weak and beggarly elements of this vain 
world. 

Mr. Blowhard took from a belt which he carried around 
his waist, one hundred dollars in gold, and paid it to 
McGee. 

‘‘Brother,” said Mr. MeGee to the agent, “ I ’me 
mighty glad it’s in my power to help you. Take this 
here five dollar gold piece, and gin it to the good cause, 
and ‘ may the Lord have marcy on it.’ ” . 

The agent added the coin to the list in his book, with 
McGee’s name. 


CHAPTEK XYIII. 


After the sale of Minna’s child, McGee said : 
^‘Brother Blowhard, let’s go over to the hut whar these 
folks live, and I 'll deliver the property to you.” They 
went over, but the hut was vacant. The fire was out, 
and the ashes were cold upon the hearth. 

“Gone, eh?” said McGee. “ Whar could they have 
gone to ? And whose told 'em that we was about to 
trade ?" 

“Could that thar agent at your house have done so, 
brother?” said Father Blowhard. 

“ Don't know,” said McGee. “ He took a walk this 
very morning afore breakfast. It would be mighty 
mean of him to sarve me sich a trick as that.” 

“Thar’s no knowing what some men will do, when 
they come amongst us,'’ said Blowhard. 

“Yes, brother; but this man seems so nice, and 
smooth spoken, and so pious, and prays so pretty, and 
never says a word agin slavery, that I can't find it in 
my heart to accuse him.” 

“ I believe. Brother McGee, that fellow is at the bot- 
tom of this whole thing ; let ’s go right back to your 
house, and accuse him of it to his face, and tell him he 
shall find the child, and deliver it to us, and if he 
don’t—” 

“What, then. Brother Blowhard?” 

“What, then? Why, let's drive him out of the 
settlement.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


141 


kind o’ don’t like to do that, seeing he ’s at my 
house, Brother Blowhard, and is sich a good man.” 

Well, we’ll see whether he’s a good man; let’s 
ask him at once to come out squar and far; be on one 
side or the other. We are on the Lord’s side, and he 
that is not with us, is against us.” 

‘‘Will you break the news first to him. Brother 
Blowhard ?” 

“ Yes. Come and let ’s see him, and give him a 
chance to clear his skirts of this affair.” 

They went back hastily to McGee’s, and found the 
agent reading a religious newspaper. 

“Brother,” said Blowhard, standing before the agent, 
“this is a pretty piece of business ; this is the reward 
we western people get for hospitality and Christian 
kindness.” 

The agent looked up — “ What ’s the matter?” 

“That child’s the matter.” 

“Yes; I have been thinking of it,” said the agent, 
quite seriously, “since you left. My conscience is 
not quite at rest on the subject.” 

“Brother, speak out with Christian frankness. We 
want to know, are you for us or against us?” said 
Blowhard. “Be a Christian out of the pulpit as well 
as in it. Are you for us or against us ?” 

“ I don’t know that I exactly comprehend your 
question.” 

“Are you for slavery or against it, is the ques- 
tion ?” 

“Your question is easily answered,” said the agent. 
“No man on earth has heard me say one word against 
slaveholding, in my preaching or in my prayers, or at 
any meeting of our society. And as for the denomina- 


142 


CHATTANOOGA. 


tion of which I am an humble member, if we had opposed 
slavery as the Quakers have done, the whole system 
would long ago have been overthrown in the United 
States. But our members buy slaves, and sell slaves,, 
and hold slaves, and take the price of slaves, and 
put it into the Lard's treasury, and send it out to 
support our missionaries. We have a great work on 
hands, Brother Blowhard, even the pulling down of the 
strong-holds of sin, and Satan in Burmah, where the 
car of Juggernaut rides over its deluded victims, and 
slays them by thousands, and in breaking up the wicked 
systems of caste in India. Who would think, for a 
moment, that we will leave this great work of the Lard 
to turn aside to the weak and beggarly elements of 
this vain and transitory world? When you see a 
church, or body of churches, a whole denomination, 
north or south, who denounce all sins, but say nothing 
against slavery, write nothing against it, do not preach 
or pray against it, and have nothing to say on the sub- 
ject, but to censure and denounce those who are op- 
posed to slavery, believe me, brother, such church is 
on the side of slavery, and says to the whole w^orld, 
and to God, and to angels, and to men, that it is 
right.’' 

‘‘Good,” said McGee, slapping the agent on the 
shoulder, “I knowed, brother, that you are true grit.” 

“Well,” said Blowhard, “I am satisfied. We really 
thought, sir, that you might have persuaded the woman 
to run off with her child.” 

“ I — I — I persuade her to do such a thing as that, 
brother ? What can you have seen, in my conduct, to 
warrant such a thought ? What have you heard from 
me, that you so greatly wrong me?” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


143 


“You walked out this morning in the direction of the 
house, and being as you heard the conversation between 
Brother Blowhard and me, we thought may be you 
might, in a moment of weakness, have dropped a hint 
to the woman, or her husband/^ 

“Dear Brother McGee, dismiss from your heart all 
such petty prejudices. I have no such weakness. I 
walked out to meditate and pray. I assure you no 
one can be more cautious, than I am, about interfering 
with your own peculiar institutions. My hands are too 
full of the Lard’s business, to allow me to turn aside to 
the weak and beggarly elements of this vain and tran- 
sitory world. Burmah is stretching forth her hands for 
help, and we have not the heart to refuse to hear her 
cry. We must break up and destroy the system of 
caste in India.” 

The agent was a pock-marked Irishman, and after 
delivering himself of this, he raised his eyes, and said: 
“ Oh, no ! both my hands are too full of the Lard’s 
work. I can not turn aside to the weak and beggarly 
elements of this vain and transitory world.” 

The old woman who had spoken to him the day be- 
fore — McGee’s mother-in-law, said : “I’m only a poor 
old woman, and my opinion ain’t worth much; but, it 
’pears to me, if you allow me to say anything — ” 

“ Speak out, sister,” said the agent, blandly, “ speak 
out — we will listen to you with great pleasure.” 

“ Well, then, it ’pears to me, that being as old 
Minna is a Christian woman, it ain’t altogether safe to 
hurt her.” 

“Oh, Brother Bean, never mind granny,” said 
McGee; “she’s always grumbling at something or 


144 


CHATTANOOGA 


other. She ’s never satisfied until she ’s got some- 
thing to complain of.’’ 

‘‘ I shall be very happy to hear what the good sister 
has to say,’^ said Mr. Bean. 

‘‘Well, then,’^ said the old woman, “it seems to me 
just as bad to sell children, as to christen ^em.’^ 

“ Oh, Granny, how you do talk. I am conscientiously 
opposed to infant baptism, as they call it.^’ 

“Yes,” said the agent, “it fills the churches with un- 
converted people.” 

“ Sister,” said the agent, “ understand me. Holiness 
to the Lard, is my motto in this life, and I don ’t wish 
to be understood as approving of this thing or opposing 
it either, for I am an agent, and my commission does 
not authorize me to interfere with any matters allowed 
by the laws of your state.^’ 

“ Your commission, I trust sir, allows you to inter- 
fere with the things allowed by the laws of Burmah ; 
does it not ? ” 

“Yes, sister; but that is a country sitting in the 
darkness of heathenism, in the region of the shadow of 
death, where widows are. burnt on the funeral pile of 
their husbands, and children are sacrificed to Juggernaut, 
and the horrible sin of caste crushes thousands to the 
earth.” 

The old woman sighed and picked up her ball of yarn. 
“ Ain’t there something in scripter that says a man must 
build up the broken walls of Jerusalem, afore his own 
house?” 

“Yes, sister; Nehemiah told the Jews to do so. My 
hands are both full of the Lard’s business, and — ” 

“ Ah,” said the old woman, interrupting him, “don’t 


CHATTANOOGA. 


145 


the scripter say, ‘If thou bringest thy gift to the altar, 
there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against 
thee, — leave there thy gift before the altar, and go and 
first he reconciled to thy brother^ and then come and 
offer thy gift ? ’ ’’ 

“ Yes, sister, it’s part of the sermon on the mount. 

“ Hav’nt you filled your hands before you were com- 
missioned to do so? We profess to follow the book jist 
as it reads. Won’t it be better to go and be first recon- 
ciled and then offer your gift? 

“Brother Bean never mind Granny,” said McGee, 
“ she’s never satisfied without she’s something to find 
fault with.” 

“Well,” said the old lady, “it ’pears to me, but I’me 
only a poor weak old woman, you know, and my opinion 
aint worth much, but it does ’pear to me that if all hands 
would jine for a few days, and put this slavery out of the 
way, that things would get along better in the church 
and in the country too. I think that Christians, if they 
go on as they are doing now, will make themselves a 
laughing stock to the whole world, and bring disgrace 
on religion through their conduct.” 

“That’s jist like Granny,” said McGee, “ never mind 
her, she always goes on so.” 

“My dear sister,” said the agent, “I highly respect 
your opinions, and have no doubt of your honesty in 
entertaining and expressing them ; but you should know 
that if slavery were disturbed, it might dissolve this glori- 
ous union, and ruin all the religion in the land.” 

“ I don’t know,” said- the old lady, “I will not risk 
my union with my glorious Savior. All must be right 
thar first. Thar’s no threats in the scripter against 
treating people better than they deserve, and thar’s a 
13 


146 


CHATTANOOGA. 


good many against treating them worse. It’s better I 
think, to be on the safe side.’^ 

‘‘Obedience to the laws,” said Brother Bean. 

“Amen,” said Blowhard. 

“Brother,” said Blowhard, “it really does my soul 
good to be here. For all you are a Calvinist and I am 
not, Christians have sympathy with each other. Brother 
McGee, we’ve been trying, you know, in this settlement 
for the last year, to have union prayer meetings, and 
other religious exercises ; but somehow we never have 
got together, and now this little affair has brought us 
into unity. Now, brother, what I propose is, that we 
have a grand union of Christians to hunt up this woman 
and her child, so that the bargain between us may be 
carried out in good faith, on both sides.” 

“Agreed,” said McGee. “Fll git all my friends to 
turn out, and I do think, too, that in such a cause as 
this, even the unconverted will lend us a helping hand.” 

“Yes, Fme sure of that,” said Blowhard. “There’s 
Job Steel and his crew ; they can all be counted on, to 
a man, and there are others of the same sort who I’m 
sure will help us.” 

“Yes,” said the old lady, again laying her knitting 
down in her lap. “ Yes, they will help you. But don’t 
it look a little suspicious like that such people are on 
your side? ” 

“ They would help put out a fire,” said Blowhard, 

“ and that would not prove it is wrong for Christians 
to put out a fire.” 

“ Yes,” said the agent, “ such men are generally great 
patriots. The greatest patriots are they that drink the 
most whisky. It was so in Ireland and it is so in Amer- 
ica.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


147 


Ah ! ” said the old lady, talking apparently to her- 
self, ^^This thing of parting mothers and their children^ 
by Christian men, is a bad business. I am afeerd no 
good will come of it in this world, or in the next. IVe 
been a member of the church forty years, come next 
May, and I’ve never seen anybody made the better by 
it. I’ve seen a good deal of it in the church, and out 
of it, in my time. It has always seemed to me that 
men and women, if they are black, and poor too, are still 
men and women, and that people as harms ’em have to 
answer for it some day.” 


CH APTEE XIX. 


The blind are, to some extent, compensated for their 
loss by the greater keenness of their remaining senses. 
Although neither McGee nor Blowhard spoke loud 
enough, apparently, for any to hear, except those who 
were very near them, yet the quick sense of Minna 
caught something that alarmed her. She could not 
hear the words, nor get the whole meaning. She heard 
enough, however, to know that something might be 
done which the actors did not wish her to know, and 
with the natural apprehension of a mother for the safety 
of her child, she became. alarmed. She was too cunning 
to betray her fear, even by a change of countenance. 

Isham and Minna, as soon as they reached their hum- 
ble home, made preparations to leave it forever. They 
tied their household goods and clothing in bundles, leav- 
ing the few articles they were unable to take with them 
and fled' to the m^ountains ; Minna carrying the baby 
and Isham so heavily laden with bundles of clothing and 
household goods, that he reeled and staggered as he 
walked. It was night, but Isham knew every path in 
the woods, and as for Minna, day and night were alike 
to her. 

A few white fleecy clouds were floating across the 
sky. They walked slowly through the forrest, and came 
to a deep ravine, at the bottom of which a stream, of 
water dashed along, over stones and rocks and fallen 
trees. The banks on each side were so very steep ‘that 


CHATTANOOGA. 


149 


their only means of crossing the ravine was a tree that 
had fallen over it. Isham had often crossed it by day- 
light, but now he had to encounter the perilous task of 
doing so when he could hardly grope his way in the 
darkness, and of taking over, if he could, his blind wife 
and their child. He crept slowly on his hands and knees 
along the log, and returned. He then took over his 
child and came back for Minna. He led her across, and 
they reached the other side in safety. Their goods had 
now to be brought over. After two or three trips, this 
was safely done. 

A drizzling rain set in, and, cold and wet, they pur- 
sued their tedious journey. The pattering of steps was 
heard sometimes behind them, at other times among the 
bushes by their side, and not far from them. At length 
they came to a place where a high rock almost overhung 
the path on one side, and on the other was a precipice 
fretted with projecting rocks, and extending a hundred 
feet below them. Two glaring eye-balls, and a low, sul- 
len growl, announced to Isham that their passage was 
disputed by a panther. The animal lay directly in the 
path. True, they could retreat, but that would embolden 
it, and perhaps cause the distruction of one of them. 
They could shout, but that might alarm some white per- 
sons, and ensure their capture and the loss of their 
child. Isham laid down his bundle, and told Minna to 
be firm and still, and crept on his hands and knees, with 
his eyes firmly fixed on the eyes of the panther. It 
remained firm, uttering low growls, and lashing its sides 
with its tail, till he had crept within twenty feet of it — 
then it uttered a loud yell and fled. 

They soon reached the top of a hill, and Isham 
half whispered, Thar it is.’’ 


150 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Thar’s what ?” said Minna. 

Thar’s our new home. We’ll get there in half an 
hour.” 

Thank God,” said Minna. Thank God, we’ll rest 
soon, and be safe. Our little baby will be safe.”’ 

There w^as on the west side of one of the hills of the 
chain of the Cumberland mountains, a thick and almost 
impenetrable cluster of bushes, over-shaded by large 
oak trees. Great rocks were piled on the mountain 
side, in some places over-shadowing a stream of clear 
water that dashed and sparkled at the base of the moun- 
tain. A narrow path — so steep and narrow that a goat 
could hardly climb it — wound from the foot of the moun- 
tain among these rocks, till it terminated at the mouth of 
a cave, which was just behind the dense cluster of un- 
dergrowth. Up this path, carrying his child on his left 
arm, and with Minna holding to his coat, Isham toiled, 
with slow and cautious steps — now stopping to rest for 
a moment or two behind a cluster of bushes, and again 
cheering his wife, with half whispered words of encour- 
agement, until the cave was reached. It was a narrow 
opening, about four feet high, and three feet wide, in a 
great lime stone rock. The aperture increased in width 
as you entered the cave. The entrance was almost con- 
cealed by the shrubs that grew before it, and by a great 
grape vine that climbed up the side of the rock, whose 
branches, spreading far and wide, were twisted over the 

trees and shrubs about it. Jsham had often vis- 

* 

ited the place beforef’ It had sometimes been a safe 
place of temporary ccgicealment for fugitive slaves, and 
the few persons who-^Knew of its existence, carefully 
avoided speaking of it in the hearing of white persons. 

The cave expanded as it extended into the mountain, 


CHATTANOOGA. 


151 


until, at the distance of twenty feet from the mouth, it 
made a large room. A mass of fallen rocks obstructed 
further advance into it. Into this the fugitives entered, 
and here, for the present, they made their hiding place 
and home. The darkness and the light were both alike 
to Minna, and Isham’s care in providing for his family 
caused him to be absent nearly all day. They soon 
made their home as comfortable as their little stock of 
furniture enabled them. 

One day, when it was raining so that Isham could not go 
abroad, he busied himself among the fallen stones that 
obstructed farther entrance into the cave, and after a 
few hours of hard labor, opened a narrow passage. 
Encouraged by his success, he worked on at intervals, 
until the whole passage was cleared, and he could go 
with his wife aid child as far into the cave as they wish- 
ed. This increased their chances of safety, as the cave 
as yet had not been fully explored, and might contain 
recesses and hiding places in which they would be se- 
cure. 

Minna’s love for her child, great as it was before, was 
increased by the hazard of being separated from it. 
She sat all day with the baby on her lap, and pass- 
ed her hands over its face, and held its little hands 
in hers, and hummed, in half suppressed words, 
her lullabys to it, as she rocked it on her knee. ‘dt 
was,” she said, the child of her old age, which God 
had given to comfort her in her affliction, and fugitives 
as they were, and hiding in rocks _and among mountains, 
from the face of their fellow men, — they were happy.” 

Isham found full employment^in procuring food and 
such comforts as he could for his little family. Although 
he was a free man, there was danger that his wife and 


152 


CHATTANOOGA. 


child world be taken if his hiding place should be dis- 
covered. He therefore had to be as careful to avoid 
discovery as if he himself was a slave. 

He had in his character a strange mixture of sim- 
plicity and shrewdness, of knavery and kindness. It 
has already been stated that he was a doctor and a con- 
juror. By the last character he gained great power 
over the minds of some of his associates, not only 
among the black people, but the ignorant whites who 
knew him supposed that he could tell fortunes, make 
love philters, and cure consumptions and cancers, and 
even cure people who were bewitched. Isham claimed 
for himself all these powers, and a great many more. 
Indeed, nothing could be named that he did not profess 
to know more about it than any one else. No remedy 
for diseases could be produced, however speedy and sure 
in its effects, but Isham claimed to have one better and 
speedier, and surer. He sometimes preached, and at 
other times professed to be a prophet. 

He was singularly kind and attentive to his wife. 
She had been blind about six years. Before she was 
seized with the smallpox, which produced it, Isham had 
been a careless and bad husband; but after that event 
his whole conduct changed, and no one could have been 
more careful, and delicate and tender toward a wife, 
than Isham was to Minna. He w’ould walk by her side 
with his arm around her waist, for hours, and entertain 
her at all times with cheerful conversation. All her lit- 
tle wants were promptly attended to, and as far as he 
could do so, with his slender means, her every wish was 
gratified. The baby was an unfailing source of happi- 
ness to both of them, and tender and delicate as Isham 
had been in his attentions to his wife before, these at- 


CHATTANOOGA. 


153 


tentions seemed to be now more tender and unremitting 
than they had ever been. 

This very solicitude for the^appiness of his wife, was 
one of the causes of his knavery. He knew that he had 
power over the minds of others, more ignorant than 
himself, and he now determined to turn it to the most 
profitable use — for the purpose of supplying the wants 
of his family and himself. 

He had a cane, on the top of which he had carved 
the figure of a man’s head. By some springs, which 
worked when he pressed his thumb on the back of the 
head, the eyes would roll, and the lips open, and Isham 
told his visitors that the image gave commands, and as 
he only could hear what it said, he was the interpreter. 
At other times he told them that the image prescribed 
remedies for their diseases, and told their fortunes, and 
uttered prophesies. 

At first he intended carefully to conceal from all 
persons, both black and white, the hiding place of him- 
self, and wife, and child; but he soon found that it was 
useless to attempt to do so. He could not procure food 
enough for them, unless by the aid of the blacks in 
his neighborhood. He, therefore, made his hiding 
place known to a chosen friend, and accompanied his 
disclosure with a statement, that his prophet had as- 
sured him that, whoever betrayed the secret, should die 
within three days after he did so. 

Many long journeys were made to the cave in the 
night, by slaves from the surrounding country. Some 
came for love philters, others to have their fortunes 
told, others to be cured of rheumatism, and others to 
have some difficult passage of Scripture, which puzzled 
them, explained. Each carried with him a small pres- 


154 


CHATTANOOGA. 


ent, a chicken, or a duck, or a pig stolen from his 
master, or a small sum of money, or what was always 
acceptable, a flask of whisky, and Isham sent each 
man home satisfied with his bargain. 

In exploring the cave, he had found a little recess by 
the side of the main entrance, in which he kept a small 
fire always burning to light the place, and around it 
were hung dried herbs, and roots, and dead snakes, and 
lizards, and toads. This was the apartment into which 
his visitors were generally taken at midnight, and 
where, seated upon the ground, with his legs crossed 
like a Turk, he consulted his oracle, and prescribed for 
his patients. 

The personal appearance of Isham, aided not a little 
in his impostures. He was about sixty years of age, 
and very black, with a small, bald head, and a long, 
white beard that extended to his breast, his chin came 
almost to a point, and his eyes, which were bright black, 
were deeply set in his head, and glared like snake’s. ^ 

After they had been two weeks at the cave, their 
wants were abundantly supplied. Pigs, poultry, opos- 
sums, and raccoons, and bread, and, indeed, whatever 
they needed, either for food or clothing, they had 
enough of, and to spare. Isham now passed his days 
within the cave, pounding and mixing his herbs, and 
roots, and snakes, and lizards for medicine for his 
patients. By his directions, herbs and roots were 
gathered, and brought to him by his visitors. His 
flight into the cave, and his mysterious life there, in- 
creased his fame, as a doctor and a fortune-teller, and, 
it was thought, made his remedies more effectual, and 
his prophecies more sure of being fulfilled. One pre- 
scription, especially among the young, greatly enlarged 


CHATTANOOGA. 


155 


his practice. Abe’s wife had died, and he had wooed 
for six long weeks a hard-hearted slave girl, who only 
laughed at his awkwardness, in return for his affection. 
He came, with a stolen pig under his arm, to Isham, 
and stated his complaint. 

Leave that to me,” said Isham, ^‘I'*ll give her in 
jist sich a dose, as will kill or cure her in two days.” 
He mixed the potion, and told Abe how to administer 
it. The directions were cautiously followed, and the 
girl, after lingering a week, apparently at the point of 
death, became the wife of Abe. 

He told one man, who complained to him of the cru- 
elty of his master, that in two weeks he would run 
away, and follow the north-east course of the moun- 
tains, until he got to the land of freedom. Within the 
time appointed, the man did run off, and no one in the 
neighborhood ever heard of him again. 

But, some of his prophesies failed. He predicted, 
with great confidence, that an earthquake would de- 
stroy a neighboring village, and told the day and the 
hour when it would occur. The day came, but not the 
earthquake ; the village yet stands. 

Isham explained it all to the satisfaction of his 
friends. 

My wife, you know, is a. Christian, and has great 
power in prar, and the Lord, for her sake, spared that 
town a little longer.” 

Minna, indeed, was, in her humble way, and accord- 
ing to the small light she had, a Christian. She did 
not know the full extent of her husband’s wickedness. 

I She knew that he was a doctor, and supposed the 
articles he obtained were fees for his services in that 
business. He carefully concealed his fortune telling. 


156 


CHATTANOOGA. 


and his prophecies from her. To do so he had selected 
another and a distant apartment from hers, in which he 
received his patients. He told her that his reasons for 
doing so were, that he was afraid her presence there 
would be discovered, if she was seen by many persons, 
and that the child would be taken from her. Many 
persons visited Isham who did not know that he had a 
wife and a child, and others, who did know it, supposed 
they were conceaeld in the neighborhood, but not in 
the cave. 

A select and trusty few only, in whom he could con- 
fide, knew that his wife and child were there, and were 
permitted to see them. 


CHAPTEK XX 


Two men came one bright morning to Rashleigh’s. 
One of them, James Stebbins, was a lame tailor ; the 
other, Ben Minter, was a farmer. They knocked at 
the door, and, upon the invitation of the man who 
opened it, went into the dimng-room. The tailor was 
without his coat, and had his measure around his neck. 
The farmer kept his hands in the pocket of his panta- 
loons, and his hat on the side of his head. 

^‘We want to see your boss,” said Stebbins. 

^‘The what, sir?” said Jinks. 

^‘The old man.” 

^^Mr. Rashleigh, sir?” 

‘‘ Yes ; tell him we ’re here on mighty important 
business, and he must come right away.” 

Jinks looked alarmed, and left the room. 

The farmer sat down on a sofa, and began to whistle. 

“My master,” said Jinks, “will see you in a minute 
or two.” 

“Tour master?” said Minter; “your master?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Jinks. “I am a servant to Mr. 
Rashleigh.” 

“ A servant,” said the little tailor, staring at him, 
j “a servant — ain’t you a white man?” 

“Yes ; I am an Hinglishman.” 

Mr. Rashleigh was heard approaching, and Jinks 
gladly withdrew. 

“ Good morning, neighbor,” said Stebbins, extending 


158 


CHATTANOOGA. 


his hand to Rashleigh. glad to see you looking 

so well to-day. This gentleman here is Mr. Minter.^^ 

Rashleigh bowed to Mr. Minter, and invited his visi- 
tors to be seated. 

^^No, thank you/' said Stebbins, we ’re in something 
of a hurry. We heard that you said the next time 
thar was a hunt in the neighborhood, you 'd like to have 
a hand in it.” 

^‘YeS, sir/’ said Rashleigh. “I do want to take 
part in a hunt, and am glad you have informed me that 
one is about to take place. When will it occur ?” 

To-morrow, at ten o'clock in the morning, we meet 
at Mr. Norton’s, and start from thar to scour the 
country.” 

Ah, indeed ! I am glad to hear it, and will not, I 
assure you, be the last person at the rendezvous. I am 
quite fond of the sport. Have you good hounds ?” 

‘^No; we can’t get any dogs.” 

How ! do you hunt in this country without hounds ? 
In England they are regarded as indispensible. The 
fox will surely escape unless we have dogs to pursue it.” 

^‘We ain’t going to hunt no fox,” said Stebbins, | 
^‘we are arter bigger game nor that.” I 

“ Ah, deer ! I suppose,” said Rashleigh ; I have 
never taken part in such a chace, but shall be de- j 
lighted to learn it here, where, I have no doubt, the 
art is carried almost to perfection. I see, now, you can 
well enough dispense with hounds on such excursions. 

I will, I assure you, do the best I can, on this occasion, 
though I fear that, from my inexperience, I shall con- ^ 
tribute but little toward the success of the day.” 

^^No,” said Stebbins, ‘^we ain’t a going to hunt na 
deer, nother.” L 


CHATTANOOGA. 


159 


^‘What then?” said Eashleigh. 

‘‘A nigger. We have the honor to be the committee 
to invite you, Mr. Eashleigh, in behalf of the people 
of this settlement, to take a hand in it.^’ 

“Invite me!” said Eashleigh, his eyes flashing, and 
his face flushed, “ to take a part in hunting a fugitive 
negro? How dare you cross my door, and stand be- 
fore my face on such an errand? I invite you to leave 
my house, and shall be greatly surprised if you renew 
your visit before I return your call. 

“ Good morning. You have mistaken my character, 
if you suppose, for a moment, that I would take part 
in such an inhuman affair. I protest against it as a 
cruelty and a wrong to humanity.” 

“ Captain,” said Stebbins, “ we meant no offense. We 
came here as neighbors, having heerd that you said 
you would like to jine the next hunt that came off in 
the settlement.” 

“Your apology is accepted, sir. Good morning.” 

“ Captain, thar ’s no occasion in takin’ on so,” said 
Minter, thrusting both his hands down to the bottom of 
his pataloons’ pockets; “it don’t scare me a bit, and 
won’t do you no good, I can tell you that.” 

“I am not a captain. I never held any office either 
civil or military.” 

“Well, I guess it will be a long time afore you get 
one in this settlement; that’s all I’ve got to say. 
Good morning, Mr. Eashleigh.” 

The committee went to another neighbor, Mr. Bran- 
don. 

“We have come, sir,” said Stebbens, “to invite you 
to take part in a hunt that’s to come off to-mor- 
row/' 


160 


CHATTANOOGA. 


thank you, gentlemen, for your invitation, but I 
never hunted, and am now too old to learn.^' 

Oh, sir,” said Minter, “ Mr. Blowhard, the Metho- 
dist preacher has lost a nigger, and the neighbors are 
to collect and hunt it for him.” 

‘‘ I am very sorry, sir, to hear of the loss the rev- 
erend gentleman has sustained, and hope you will be 
successful in your pursuit. In other days some of my 
slaves have escaped, and I have been glad when they 
were recaptured. I have always liberally rewarded 
those who caught them for me. Mr. Blowhard, gen- 
tlemen, I hope, will reward you, if you bring back his 
slave.” 

“ Oh, no, sir,” said Minter, he ’s already told us 
he ’s got nothing to pay for it, but in preachin’. We 
don’t expect him to pay no money. It would be wrong, 
sir, to charge a preacher for such little lifts as that ; 
but you come, sir, and take a hand in the sport 

^^No, sir. I have never taken part in such hunts, 
and, although my fortunes are greatly altered, I never 
will. No man, who knows me, would ever have invited 
me to join in such an affair.” 

“You say,” said Minter, “that you have paid men 
for such services for j^ou?” 

“Yes, sir. I have paid men, too, for blacking my | 
boots, and cleaning out my stables.” 

“You seem to think, some how, that it’s beneath a 
gentleman to hunt for a nigger?” 

“I do think so.” 

“Well, that’s as good as saying we ’re not gentle- 
men.. Ain’t it?” 

“No, sir. Upon that subject I am silent. All men 
have not been educated alike. Each man must be 


CHATTANOOGA. 


161 


controlled by his own views of propriety. All that I 
wish to say is, that I will take no part in such affairs. 
I wish, too, that the reverend gentleman may find his 
slave.' ’ 

The committee called on many other persons in the 
neighborhood, and invited them to the hunt. 

One man, whose aid they were sure of obtaining, as 
he was a member of the Methodist church, told them 
that Mr. Blowhard had better be saying his prars, 
than catching runaway negroes. Another, who was a 
Baptist, on whom, therefore, they relied, told them that 
Deacon McGee was disgracing the profession of reli- 
gion, and ought to be expelled from the church ; and 
another man actually went so far, as to say, that for 
his part, he wished every negro in the state -would run 
away, and that the man who brought the first one back 
migh be shot. 

Still the committee went on with their work, and, at 
the appointed time, fifty men were at Norton’s house, 
eager for the hunt. 

The conduct of Rashleigh toward the committee, was, 
of course, duly reported, and aroused the indignation 
of the good people so much, that some of them pro- 
posed to pass by his house on the way to the hunt, and 
give that gentleman a coat of tar and feathers. Others 
said that that punishment was entirely too light, and 
hinted that somebody in that settlement needed hang- 
ing. 

Norton, however, interfered, and said: “Neighbors, 
leave that matter to me. I’ve got a plan in my head 
that you will all approve of as soon as you know it. I 
can not tell it now, because that might defeat my pur- 
pose ; leave that thing to me, and I ’ll show you that 
14 


162 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the old English aristocrat has his match in one man in 
this settlement.’’ 

The men acquiesced, and soon after started out on 
the hunt. They were divided into four hands. One 
party went north, the other south, the other east, and 
the last west, with directions to spread out as they 
advanced, and to leave no place unexamined in which 
it was possible for the fugitives to hide. 

Norton went with the eastern band, and soon reached 
the mountains, ^and the cave which they entered, but 
found no trace or sign of the fugitives. Not a leaf of 
the dried herbs, that once hung upon the wall, not a 
feather of the poultry on which Isham and his family 
had feasted, not a foot print near the cave, other than 
those made by the hunters, was seen. 

The walls of the cave, indeed, were blackened with 
smoke and ashes, and pieces of the charcoal were scat- 
tered over the floor, but it was supposed that the In- 
dians sometimes came there and kindled fires in it. 

At night the party again met at Norton s. He 
thanked them in behalf of the state for the zeal they 
had shown in the pursuit of the fugitives, and assured 
them that the safety of the state, and the happiness of 
their posterity to the latest generation, undoubtedly 
depended upon their preserving the institution of 
slavery. 

Two barrels of whisky were brought out in the yard, 
and tin cups, and the gentlemen were invited to help 
themselves. A scene of rioting and drunkenness fol- 
lowed, in which Norton bore the chief part, too dis- 
gusting to be related, especially as it is not immediately 
connected with our story. 

The precaution of Norton was the principal cause of 


CHATTANOOGA. 


163 


defeating the expedition. No effort was made to con- 
ceal the intended hunt from the colored people of the 
neighborhood, and long before the party set out, Isham 
was informed of their plans, and had fled with his 
wife and child. Others aided his flight and his con- 
cealment. 

Another expedition was talked of, but was put oflF 
until the next spring, when Norton said it should be 
successful. 

A few days after the hunt, the Rev. Mr. Blowhard 
was in fine health and spirits ; but, after a hearty din- 
ner, he was suddenly taken ill, and in two days was 
dead. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


Three days after Tom Giles went away, as Mr. 
Strong was busily overlooking and arranging his papers, 
he heard a loud knocking at the door of his room, he 
supposed the house was on fire, ran to the door, and as 
he opened it, his hand was seized ; 

‘‘How are you, squire; I’m mighty glad to see you 
agin.” 

“Why, Giles, I am surprised. Tour visit is as unex- 
pected as it is welcome. I feared that you had deserted 
me forever.” 

“Well, squire, I were scar’d — that’s a fact; but I’ve 
bin thinkin’ the hull thing over, and believe the ’Meri- 
can eagle is more nor twenty one years old, and kin 
take keer of hisself. The fact is, squire, that bird has 
always tuk good keer of hisself ever since he ’s bin 
hatched. Squire, how ken a book split the Union ? 
It takes the people like me and my neighbors to do 
that. We ’ve got to have a say about it, and I reckon 
it can’t be done till a good many of us is willin’ to 
it.” 

“You are right, Giles. The Union will never be 
divided until the people of the United States consent 
to it : but I hardly thought you would return. I am 
glad to see you.” 

“Well, well, squire, thar ’s more dangerous things in 
these parts, than splitting the Union.” 

“What, Giles ?” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


165 


^^Well, squire, I may as well tell you first as last. 
I went home with Jim Wilson. They all treated me 
mighty well, and were glad to see an old neighbor. 
Jim 's got a sister livin’ with him as has bin a widder 
six months, who has two boys and three gals. At 
first she did n’t notice me hardly at all ; but day 
afore yesterday I happened to say that I ’ve made 
a hnndred and thirty-two dollars and thirty-seven 
and a half cents a showng my varmint here, (pointing 
to the badger lying in a basket at his feet,) and 
with that she began to pet the varmint — and to feed 
it — and tried to make it eat a lump of maple sugar, 
and made a new collar for it, though the old one were 
good enough, and said it were mighty pretty, and how 
she liked it. Squire, I ’m sixty odd year old, and 
has bin a widower seven years come next March. I 
said nothing. Well, I were as perlite to the lady as I 
could be till last night, when I war complaining of a 
pain in my legs, and the widder wanted to int ’em with 
Shaker linament. She got a big bottle half full of 
white stuff, and shuk it up, and wanted me to let her 
int my legs. Squire, it were no use to pretend to be 
blind no longer, so I put her off as well as I could, and 
this morning I bid them all good-by and come away. 
The widder, squire, squeezed my hand when I shuk 
hands with her and smiled, and said she reckoned she ’d 
see me agin in a day or two. I reckon she won’t 
though, and I made no promises.” , 

‘‘Well, Giles, you have had a narrow escape. I con- 
gratulate you on your good luck.” 

The parties then renewed their agreement, and 
Strong went on with his work. He looked up in about 
an hour, and Tom Giles was asleep. He awakened 


166 


CHATTANOOGA. 


him ; Giles, this won’t do. I want you to hear all I 
read, that you may correct the errors, if any, in the 
statements.’^ 

Go on, squire, you may depend on it, if any thing ’s 
wrong, I ’ll wake up the minute you come to it, like a 
miller when his mill gets out of gear. I know by the 
run of the thing that it ’s all right, and I were kep 
awake nearly all night last night thinking of that wid- 
der trying to int my legs. Squire, having a widder 
Tunnin’ arter you with a big bottle of Shaker linament — 
shaking it up as she runs, and tryin’ to int your legs — 
is a heap worse nor dissolven the Union. Indeed it is, 
squire.’^ 

Giles,’’ said Mr. Strong, there is something which 
I . passed over while you were away. I wish you to 
hear it read so that it may be corrected, if it is not 
rightly stated.” 

The squire ” read the scene at the Baptist 
meeting-house: ‘‘Do you know anything about this, 
Giles?” 

“ Sartinly I do ; I war the head deacon in the church 
at that time, and stood by, and were an eye witness to 
the whole thing. But, squire, as you have it wrote 
down it is not right — it keeps back part of the truth. 
Why, squire, that buying of that baby by father Blow- 
hard, was one of the blessedest things that ever a Me- 
thodist — mind what I say — a Methodist preacher done. 

I were trembling in my shoes for the peace of the 
church, and the prosperity of our Zion, (I mean our 
church on the Mud F ork Turkey Creek,) and wonderin’ 
how in the world the thing would come out. Because, 
you see, if Brother McGee refused to let the Methodist 
sprinkle water — a little water on the child’s face — mind 


CHATTANOOGA. 


167 


I don’t call it baptisin’, squire, which would only have 
washed its face, and done the little thing not a bit of 
I harm, why, then, all the Methodists in the settlement 
would have set up a great outcry about it, and said 
! how cruel it were to the poor mother of the child, and 
what a shame it war to treat a poor, old, blind Christian 
j woman so ; and ’ef brother McGee had gone and let 
’em sprinkle it, then it would have been lettin’ go the 
’ great pint agin infant sprinklin’. So I could not see, 
• poor short-sighed mortal as I am, how the thing were to 
end. I were greatly consarned about it, and did not 
sleep well that night. And when I heerd, in the arter- 
noon, next day, that Father Blowhard had bought the 
child, I jumped for joy, ’cause it settled the hull 
thing, and gin peace to the church, and prosperity to 
Zion on the Mud Fork of Turkey Creek. Both parties 
said they’d beat each other; the Methodists said they ’d 
carried their pint, and the Baptists said that Father 
Blowhard war afeer’d to argue the Scripter with 
McGee, and so backed out and bought the child. It 
made McGee so popular that he war made a delegate 
to the Holstein Association, and when Father Blowhard 
died, which he did soon arterwards, all the newspapers 
in the land said he were in heaven, and some of the 
Baptists even went to his funeral. And it were a great 
thing, squire, for Wash McGee, ’cause he got rich from 
that trade ; it gin him a start in the world.” 

‘‘I do not see,” said Strong, “McGee’s name men- 
tioned again in these papers ; please let me know what 
became of him.” 

“ I can do that, squire, ’cause it war only four weeks 
ago last Thursday — let me see — no, it war last Friday, 
four weeks ago, that I war at their house in Memphis, 


168 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Wash McGee were my own brother-in-law; he married 
my sister Katy. We all moved out here from North 
Carlina together. He sold that little nigger to old 
Father Bio whard, the Methodist preacher, that were in 
these parts, and got a hundred dollars cash in hand, and 
ten acres of land at Memphis. When he got the land 
we all thought it were not of much account; but Wash, 
he said he would move out thar, because he said he 
couldn’t be much worse off thar, nor any wnar else in 
this world, than he were here. So he tuk his money 
and his deed, and a new rifle that he was always brag- 
ging about, and went down the Tennessee Kiver till 
he got into the Ohio, and then went down that till he 
got into the Mississippi, and then down to Memphis. 
When he got thar, thar was only a few log houses ; but 
people thar said thar was a great outcome for the place, 
and that them as got land thar and held on to it, would 
be rich. Wash McGee were great for holding on. He 
were always talking about the final parseverance of the 
saints. And he did hold on till the town grew up to 
a great place,, and then he cut his ten acres into lots 
and sold them out for big prices, and got mighty rich. 
I only heard from him once in a great while, and then, 
arter awhile, I never got no more letters from him. 
Well, as I were coming here, only last month, I stopped 
at Memphis, and detarmined to find him. It was about 
eleven o’clock on Sunday morning when I got across 
the Mississippi, and as he were a deacon, I thought the 
quickest way to find him were to go right to the meet- 
ing-house. So I takes this here varmint in my basket, 
and goes straight thar. It was full of people, all 
dressed up in their Sunday best, and while I were 
standing at the door, a mighty friendly sort of man 


CHATTANOOGA. 


169 


came up to me, and whispered, ^Do you w^ant a seat, 
sir. Says I to him, ‘ Yes, sir.’ So he tuk me up into a 
loft, and I sat down on a bench, and looked round 
awdiile on the people. Thar were a gang of youngsters 
up stars, and a queer looking fellow with big^ black 
whiskers. The youngsters sung, and the queer fellow 
with the black whiskers played the fiddle. He was up 
to it, squire, and fiddled so well, that I looked to see 
what the preacher were about; but he sat still, and 
looked mighty serious all the time, jist as if thar weren't 
nary fiddle in ten mile of him. Arter awhile he got 
up to preach, and bein’ as he were not a Baptist, I 
went to sleep.” 

When I woke I looked up, and there was the fiddler 
man, with black whiskers, a standing straight up, with 
his fiddlestick in his hand, pointing to pussey, who had 
crept out of the basket, and were walking on the rail 
that runs round the edge of the loft, and all the gals 
in the loft war a laughing and putting their handker- 
chers in their mouths, and the preacher were standin’ 
still a looking at the badger, and all the people in 
the meetin’ house were a lookin’ up at it and me, and 
the iromen that were under the varmint while he were 
walking on the rail, were getting up and going to other 
parts of the meeting house. I were scared. Squire, 
and so I jist got up, and with this the varmint started 
on the run, but the rail were smooth ,and slippery, and 
he fell off, but I cotch the eend of the chain and held 
on to it. He gin a loud squeel as he went over, all 
the people below made a rush to get out of the way. 
The varmint kicked terribly, but I pulled him up to 
me. I were afeard his neck were broke, and war mighty 


170 


CHATTANOOGA. 


glad to find that he war’nt hurt much, but mighty 
scared he was,^ I tell you, Squire. 

‘‘ One old lady tuk a fit, and two or three screamed 
out loud. ^ 

‘‘ It wouldn ’t a happened. Squire, only for the fiddler, 
with black whiskers. He shuk his fiddle stick at the 
varmint, and said hiss, in a kind of half whisper, be- 
tween his teeth, and he were so ugly that the poor 
thing got scared, and no wonder, for his face were 
enough to scare a man, let alone a poor varmint like 
a badger. 

Arter that I sot down a while, but I were so un- 
comfortable that I concluded to go out — so I tuk the 
basket on my arm, and with the varmint in it, went 
out and sot down on the steps of the meetin' house till 
meetin^ let out. I w^anted to tell the preacher whose 
fault it were, and to ask for Wash McGee, when the 
meetin’ let out, which it did very soon that day. I axed 
all the people that come out if they know'd Wash 
McGee, and told ^em he were my own brother-in-law, 
and his wife were my own sister, Katy. Nobody 
seemed to know anything about him till I told a whole 
crowd around me that he used to live near Chattanooga, 
and bought ten acres of land in Memphis, at an early 
day, and then an old nice looking grey harred gentle- 
man, with a gold headed cane and gold spectacles, said 
I must be enquiring for Col. George Washington 
McGee. 

Yes, says I, I did hear that he got to be Colonel, 
and his name is George Washington McGee, and his 
wife’s name is Katy, she’s my own sister. The nice 
old gentleman told me that Col. McGee had been dead 


CHATTANOOGA. 


171 


six year, but his widow and part of the family were liv- 
ing in Memphis. A boy came up and said he would go 
along with me and show me their house. I told the nice 
looking old gentleman that I were much obleeged to 
him and shuk hands with him, and bid the people good- 
by, and went with the boy. He were a nice little boy, 
and as we went along, he told me what great people the 
McGees were, and that they were so rich that they kept 
a barl of change — ^gold dollars and halves and quarters 
and ten cent pieces and cents, all mixed up together, in 
the closet under the stars by the side of the sugar barl, 
and whenever any one of them wanted change they 
jist went to the barl and shoveled up in a tin scoop 
that was in it, as much as they wanted — gold dollars 
and quarters. and half dollars and dimes all mixed up 
together, and that when one barl gin out, they got an- 
other from the bank, so as always to keep plenty of 
change on hand. The boy said that it were very nice, 
and that when he got to be a man he meant to do so 
too in his house, but that he would allers keep the door 
locked and let his wife tote the key. 

‘‘We got pretty soon to a great big brick house that 
stands back in a yard with a great many trees and 
little bushes all about it, and a wall round the yard, 
and a big iron gate in front, and a nice walk kivered 
with shells up to the front door. We went in and the 
boy rung flie bell, and while we were waiting at the 
door I let him have one more look at the badger (for 
I kept it kivered up with a check apron in the basket) 
to pay him for his trouble in shewing me the house. 
He told me good-bye and went away. 

“A nigger man came to the door and I went in — 
the fellow axed my name and who I wanted to see. I 


172 


CHATTANOOGA. 


tolled him my name is Tom Giles, and that I come 
thar to see the hull family. He went away and left 
me standing at the door, and bye-and-by a young 
fellow came. He had on white pants with red stripes 
running down outside right here whar thar sewed, 
Squire, (pointing to the seam,) and red shoes on his 
feet. He had a bunch of black harr on his chin, but as 
soon as I laid eyes on him I knew he must be Wash 
McGee’s son, for he looked exactly like his father 
when we was young men together, all but the little 
bunch of black harr that hung down on his chin like a 
goat’s beard. He tuk me in a back room, and said, 
bein as it were Sunday, the ladies, in course, had gone 
out a riding. I axed him for his mother that is my 
sister Katy, and he said she were up starrs. So we 
went up starrs and away to the back part of the house, 
and he opened a door and we walked in, and thar sot 
my sister Katy as natural as life, smoking her pipe jist 
as she used to do, and not a bit changed 'cept that she 
were older and her harr were grey. She looked at me 
for a minute and said, ‘Bless my stars, if thar aint 
my brother Tom — how arr you, Tom? I am mighty 
glad to see you.’ I sot down, and pretty soon a nigger 
brought me some dinner, and I gin some to the bad- 
ger, but the poor thing was so scared it had’nt no 
appetite to eat. 

“ We sot and talked over old times till it was time to 
go to bed, and then they tuk me to a nice room and I 
had a sound sleep, only I had a bad dream about the 
black whiskered fidjjler and the preacher and people in 
the itieetin’ house, and thought the fiddler wanted to 
kill my badger. Next morning a nigger fetched me 
some hot water and a razor for to shave and wash my- 


CHATTANOOGA. 


173 


self, and when done he went afore me to show me the 
way to breakfast. We went along a passage and down 
one set of starrs and then down two more and then 
went back along another passage till we got to whar 
the victuals was, and there sot William Henry Harrison 
McGee, the young man I saw the day before, and two 
gals, my nieces ; one of ’em is a widder. Her husband 
had been a doctor, and died and left her a sight of 
money besides what she had of her own. The other 
was a young gal only about sixteen or seventeen year 
old. Mrs. Webler, the widder, looked kind a scornful 
at me, but the rest was mighty friendly and glad to see 
their uncle. 

“ Soon arter I sot down to breakfast, a nigger boy 
came and told William Henry Harrison McGee that 
some gentleman war in thar parlor and wanted for to 
see him. He sent word back that he were eating his 
breakfast and would be thar in a minute or two, and 
the little nigger come back and said the gentleman 
couldn ’t wait a minute, and wanted to see him right 
away. So he got up and went to tlie room whar they 
war, in sich a hurry that he left the door a little open 
I arter him, and I could hear some words they war a 

i saying to him. They war a talkin about me and my 

' badger, and what tuk place at the church the day 
before, and they all laughed as loud as they could. I 
heard William Henry Harrison McGee say, ^ He’s my 
own uncle, my mother’s brother — gentleman, and no 
mistake, and while he’s here I mean to treat him as 
, a gentleman should be treated.’ Bye-and-by, they 
j all went away and William Henry Harrison come back 
to finish his breakfast. His face were red with laugh- 
ing, and he could not help laughing when he come 


174 


CHATTANOOGA. 


back ; but for my part, I thought it war not a thing 
to laugh at, being as my badger had like to broke its 
neck, and had no appetite to eat, and if it died I would 
be ruined. He sot down and said, ‘Well, uncle, you 
were at church yesterday, as a good Christian should 
be.^ 

“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I were than’ 

“ ‘ You took your badger with you, I ’ve heard.’ 

“‘Yes, I allers does so, ’cause I’s afeard to trust it 
out of my sight for fear of an accident; somebody 
might steal it.’ 

“‘An accident did happen, yesterday, to it — did’nt 
it.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, a little one,’ I said, ‘ but nothing to speak of, 
I were afeard its neck were broke, but I gin it some 
water this mornin and find it can swallow. It will be 
well enough to show in a few days here, and then I 
mean to show it to the people in Memphis.’ 

“William Henry Harrison McGee told his sisters all 
that tuk place at the meetin’ house, the day before, and 
a good deal more, too. He made things worse nor it 
were. He laughed fit to kill himself when he told it, 
and Kitty McGee laughed too, and the nigger boy that 
waited on the table, he had his eyes open at first so 
wide that they looked white and he shewed his whole 
set of teeth from ear to ear, and then about the eend 
of it laughed out as loud as he could, and laid down 
and rolled on the carpet, but Mrs. Webler tuk pity on 
it, and never laughed at all but were seriouser and 
seriouser till Harrison got through, and then turned a 
sort of green and gave one loud scream and fell back 
on the floor in a ’steric fit. She took it harder nor I 
did and had more pity on the poor varmint nor I had 


CHATTANOOGA. 


175 


myself. In course all laughing stopped then. The 
rest of them were young and never seemed to think 
how bad the poor varmint must have felt when it war 
a hanging in the meetin’ house, and kicking for life, 
but they were youngsters and I excused 'em on that 
account. Mrs. Webler were older and had more 
thought and more pity. She come too arter a while, 
and then Harrison said, ^ How soon, uncle, do you in- 
tend to shew your badger in Memphis?' I said, ‘as 
soon as it gets well and sound, which I reckon it will by 
day arter to morrow. Jist as I said that, Mrs. Webler 
were taken with another fit worse nor the first one. 
She must have thought me mighty cruel to be a shew- 
ing of the varmint so soon arter the accident, but she 
war wrong thar, for it war’nt hurt badly at all. 

“ I walked about the town the next day. A great 
many gentlemen met me in the street and axed me if I 
were Col. McGee’s brother-in-law, and I told 'em I 
were, and that I were goin’ to open a show, and axed 
’em to come and see my badger; and ’most all of 'em 
said they would. 

“ Sometimes ladies met me in the street, and turned 
round and looked arter me, and then one said to the 
other, that’s the man that’s got a badger; he’s Mrs. 
Dr. Webler’s uncle. I must own up to it. Squire, I were 
a little — jist a little, you see, proud of my rich kin- 
folks, and liked to see so many people lookin' arter 
me. The boys followed along behind me and talked 
about my badger. I heard some of 'em say they saw 
it in meetin’, but meant to see it agin as soon as the 
show opened, and others said they wished they had 
been to meetin’ that day.^ I thought when I did open 
I would have a great run, and get crowds of people to 


176 


CHATTANOOGA. 


come to see it, and would take in a sight of money. I 
met a man that had a string of fish for sale, and we 
had a long talk together, I told him what I were goin 
to do. He allowed I had better advertise, but I told 
him I could not spare money enough to put the adver- 
tisement in the public prints. He then told me the 
best way for me to do was to write advertisements and 
stick ’em up in the town, and said he would help me as 
soon as he sold his string of fish. I went about with 
him from one house to another, till at last he got half a 
dollar for his fish, and then we got some paper and 
wrote the advertisements. Here ’s one of ’em, squire, 
that I Ve kep to copy off at other places where I want 
to put it out again. So saying, he laid on the table a 
paper, of which the following is a copy : 

FOE SHO; 

A TAME BADGER. 

OPEN 2 DAYS. ^MITTANSE 5 SENTS; CHILDEEN 3 SENTS. 

tosgiLes. 

^^We could not say whar the show were to be, so we 
left that out till I could get a good place. 

‘‘That night, at supper, I pulled out one of the 
papers and shewed it to William Henry Harrison 
McGee. He put a little round glass, in a gold frame, 
up to his eye, and read it twice over. He then handed 
it to his sister, and she read it, and then she handed it 
to Mrs. Webler, and as soon as she read it, she turned 
green in the face, and came nigh having another fit. 
She looked cross at me, and said: ‘Are you going 
to show that beast in Memphis V 

“I said, ‘Yes, honey.’ It won’t hurt it a bit. It ’s 
got over all its pains in the neck. Don’t take on so, 


CHATTANOOGA. 


177 


and think I ’m cruel to the varmint. I like it most as 
well as if it were my own child. I catch’ d it young, and 
have raised it by hand. 

‘^As soon as I said so, William Henry Harrison, 
McGee, and his little sister laughed, but Mrs. Webler 
looked mighty serious. 

“ She must have thought her Uncle were a hard 
hearted man. 

Arter supper little Katy came up to whar I was set- 
ting in my sisters room, and said: ‘We are going out 
a riding in the carriage for an hour this evening, and I 
want to take your badger along to give it an airing. 
The -night breezes are refreshing and will do it good.’ 

“I thanked her for her kindness, and were jist a 
goin’ to hand her the basket with the varmint in it, 
when sister Katy pulled my arm, and said: ‘Brother 
Tom, if you let it go out of your sight, you ’ll never see 
it again ; the ’ll drown the badger sure as you are a 
living man;’ and as she said so, little Katy bust out in 
a loud laugh, and ran away. 

“‘Tom,’ said my sister to me, ‘you don’t know these 
youngsters yet ; they are full of mischief. Do n’t you 
trust any body in this house, but yourself, with that 
badger ; if you do, it will disappear, and you ’ll never 
know what has ’come of it.’ 

“‘Why, how can they be sich bitter inemies to a 
creator that never hurt a harr of their heads, Katy?' 
I said to my sister. 

“ She shook her head, and said : ‘ Mind, Tom, what 
I tell you ; they are my own children, and I know ’em 
better nor you.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, but it looks so spiteful and cruel in them to 
want to drown’d a poor critter that never did them nor 


178 


CHATTANOOGA. 


any body else any barm. But, as for Mrs. Webler, 
I ’m sure she has no hand in it.’ 

Arter awhile little Katy came back, and said : 
^ Uncle Tom, won’t you sell your dear little badger to 
me. I ’ll give you twenty dollars for it.^ But I told 
her so many nice gentlemen had axed me when I were 
goin’ to show it, and said they were most dying to see 
it, that I could not dissappint ’em. My word was out, I 
said, and they must see it ; if it were not for that, I 
believe I would take twenty dollars for it, to obleege 
her. But I would let her have it arter the show. She 
said she would not want it when every body had 
seen it.’’ 

“Mr. Giles,” said Strong, “where are the other chil- 
dren of Wash McGee?” 

“Oh, George Washington McGee is a young man — 
rather an oldish sort of a young man though, and he ’s 
gone to forrin’ parts a secretary of legation, and Pola 
Bonaparte McGee has a great turn for making money, 
and buys and sells niggers. Sister Katy told me he ’s 
got mighty rich at the business. 

“ Wall, as I was tellin’ you, squire, next mornin’, at 
breakfast, I inquired whar was the best place to open 
my show. I told ’em some people said thar was a good 
place close down by the court-house ; but most told me 
that the meetin’-house steps would be the place whar 
the biggest crowd could.be got together. As soon as I 
begun to talk about the thing, Mrs. Webler got straight 
up and left the room. She couldn’t bar to hear me 
talk about making a show of the poor critter so soon 
arter the accident. Its neck were a little crooked still, 
and maybe she saw it. Well, squire, the rest of. us 
had the whole talk to ourselves, and William Henry 


CHATTANOOGA. 


179 


Harrison McGee says to me, ‘ Uncle Tom, I mean to 
help you in this thing. This is your house as long as 
you please to stay with us, which I hope will be a good 
while. You need not be at the expense of hiring a 
room to open your show in. If you show the badger at 
the meeting-house steps, the boys will crowd around, 
and get on the steps behind you, and see it for 
nothing, and so cheat you.' 

‘“Yes,’ I said, ‘half the town has seen it already at 
the meetin’-honse, but they has not seen any of the 
antics it ken play, and never will till they pay for the 
sight.^ 

‘“Uncle,’ says William Henry Harrison McGee, 
jist come with me ; I ’ll show you a room that will suit 
you exactly,^ and then we got up and he took me to 
the back parlor, all full of nice chairs and sofas, and 
fine things. ‘This is the best place you can get to 
show it in.’ 

‘“What!’ says I, ‘in this fine room?’ 

“ ‘ Yes,’ says he, ‘ this is the place I have determined 
on it, after due deliberation. Katy and I have agreed 
on it, and we are in the majority, you know. Mrs. 
Webler is opposed to your shewing it any whar in 
Memphis.’ 

“‘Poor, soft hearted woman,’ says I, ‘ she must think 
the critter is worse hurt nor it is. I ’ll jist take it in 
and show it to her ’ 

“ ‘ No; don’t. Uncle, don’t ; if you do, she will go into 
fits,’ said little Katy. 

“ ‘ Why, it is a right pretty critter, and tame, and 
won’t bite at all. She need not be scared.’ 

‘“Ah, Uncle,’ said William Henry Harrison McGee, 
‘ women are so curious.’ 


180 


CHATTANOOGA. 


‘‘ ^ Yes/ I said, ^some of them are tender hearted a.s 
chickens, ’specially city ladies. Your mother, that ’s 
my sister Katy, wasn’t so when she was a gal.’ 

‘^‘Well, Uncle, the thing is fixed. This room is 
your own ; put up your advertisements, and I ’ll go out 
and drum up a crowd to come to the show.’ 

I got a barl head, and writ on it — Badger for sho 
HERE. ’Mittance 5 sents ; children 3 sents, and fas- 
tened it on the front door, high up, so as anybody 
walking along the street could see it. 

Arter awhile Harrison came back with three young 
ladies. They wanted to get in the room without pay- 
ing the ’mittance fee, but he wouldn’t let ’em. 

They paid at last and come in, and I tuk the var- 
mint out of the basket, and shewed it to ’em. He 
put his glass to his eye, and looked at it, and said his 
Uncle Tom’s badger was mighty pretty; and that it 
was a pity its neck were crooked. The ladies ’mired 
it, and praised it very much, and I axed ’em to recom- 
ment it to their friends to call and see it, and they all 
said they would be sure to do so. They went away, 
and others came, ladies and gentlemen, till nearly din- 
ner time, when it slacked off awhile ; but in the arter- 
noon there were a perfect rush ; the room were full of 
ladies and gentlemen, and I made the badger stand on 
its hind legs, and play all its antics. I got lots of 
money. Some would n’t take a cent of change back 
when they paid me a ten cent piece; and one nice 
young lady gave me a gold dollar, and said the whole 
thing was so funny, that she could not take a cent of 
change, it were worth two dollars to be thar and 
see it. 

Arter nearly all the company had gone away, Wil- 


CHATTANOOGA. 


181 


iam Henry Harrison McGee put his little round glass 
up to his eye, and said, to a young gentleman that were 
standin’ by him, ‘ I say, Mr. Jinkins, that badger is a 
beautiful creeter — ain’t it.’ 

^‘Mr. Jinkins said: ‘Indeed you may say that, Mr. 
McGee. It makes my heart beat with joy to look at 
it.’ I were mighty pleased, squire, to hear ’em talk so 
of my varmint, and looked at it myself, and really 
thought the animal were prettier than ever I had seen 
it afore. 

“Then William Henry Harrison McGee says: ‘Mr. 
Jinkins I ’ve a project in my head.’ 

“‘What is it?’ says Mr. Jinkins. 

“ ‘Why, this,’ says William Henry Harrison McGee, 
‘ th.at you and me take a turn with my Uncle here when 
he goes into the country, and help to show the beauti- 
ful animal. We ’ll get a hand organ, and you’ll play 
the organ, and I’ll stand at the door and take the 
money, and my Uncle here will be inside, and show the 
badger.’ 

“ Mr. Jinkins studied a little, and put his fore finger 
up to his nose, and said: ‘Wouldn’t it be better to 
take it turn about in playing the organ.’ 

“‘No,’ says William Henry Harrison McGee, ‘every 
man should follow the bent of his genius. You have a 
talent for music, and I have a talent for money. Every 
man to his calling, Mr. Jinkins, and then the world will 
get along better.’ 

“ ‘Yes,’ says Mr. Jinkins, ‘but I aint got no talent 
for hand organs.’ 

“ ‘ Indeed, my dear sir, you do yourself injustice. 
You were born with a talent for hand organs which has 


182 


CHATTANOOGA. 


been buried in a napkin ; all that is wantin’ is tbat it 
should be developed.’ 

‘‘And then they agreed to go with me; Mr. Jinkins 
were to play the hand organ, and William Henry Har- 
rison McGee to take the money at the door, and me to 
make the badger stand on his hind legs, and shew his 
antics afore the assembled multitude when they come to 
the show. 

“ I thought the next day I would make a little for- 
tune, and got every thing ready for a great crowd, and 
sot in the back parlor and listened to hear the bell ring. 
One hour passed and then another and then another, 
and nobody came a near. Arter a while little Katy 
came in and talked a while and went away half laugh- 
ing; then the little nigger waiter boy come in and he 
looked and grinned and went out, and then nobody else 
came. I wondered what on airth were the matter. At 
last I took my badger up to sister Katy’s room and 
asked her to take keer of it for me. She said, ‘ Brother 
Tom, you need not be afraid now, they will not kill 
your badger — all danger is over.’ Then I went out to 
see what was the matter, and don’t you think, squire, 
William Henry Harrison McGee had took down my 
sign from the front door and put a piece of crape on 
his left arm, and gin out in speeches that my badger — 
it were dead. He walked all over the town with the 
crape on his arm, looking very mournful and saying he 
felt as if one of his kin folks were departed. 

“ As I were coming back to the house, I saw a lady 
meeting me. I lookeVi at her, and bless my stars, it 
were Mrs. Webler, that I thought were sick abed. As 
soon as I saw her I knew she had a raging fever — her 


CHATTANOOGA. 


183 


face were so red. So I met her and said, ‘ You ought’nt 
to be out when you are so sick ; you are burning up 
with a fever ; your cheeks is as red as fire, and when 
you are home they are always so pale.’ She tried 
to get past me without speaking, and I were more 
convinced that the fever war preying on her vitals. 
‘You ought to be bled, Mrs. Webler; indeed you 
ought,’ I said to her, ‘ and here’s a doctor’s shop close 
by ; do come in and get bled.’ But she looked jist as 
red as ever, and then she tried to run. So I caught 
her up in my arms and were totin’ her to the doctor’s 
shop to be bled, for I saw she were out of her head. 
She screamed and struggled, and a crowd of people got 
round us and tuk her away from me, and while I were 
talking to some of them she slipped off and went home. 
One young feller said she were only painted. That 
made me mad, squire. It were scandalizing a woman, 
my own sister’s child, and I could not stand it. It 
were equal to calling Mrs. Webler a squaw, and I hit 
him for it. A constable tuk me up and the hull crowd 
followed along till we come to a Squire’s office, and 
they proved that I hit the feller. I told the Squire 
what I did it for, and he laughed and all the people 
laughed, and the squire said I must fine you a dollar and 
cost ; so I had to pay the man nigh two dollars afore I 
got off, which I did, all in five cent pieces. I axed the 
squire to fine the feller for saying my niece were 
painted, but he only laughed and would not do it. 

“ I went out of the place after I had paid the man 
nearly all the five cent pieces I had about me. I were 
mad, squire. As I were walking away, a young feller 
came up and axed me when my badger’s funeral were 
to be, and whether it was to be tuk to the church afore 


184 


CHATTANOOaA. 


it were buried, and if it didn’t die from a sore neck? 
I thought he were trying to poke fun on me, and was 
jist about to hit him, but I remembered the fine I had 
jist paid, and a cold shiver ran all over me, and I let 
him be. 

‘‘When I got back to the house, they told me Mrs. 
Webler were very sick and in bed. I know’d she had 
a fever when I met her. If she had been bled, she 
would have been well by that time. So I told my sister 
that arter dinner I would take my badger out in town 
and show it, for I said I couldn’t aford to be idle when 
I could make so much money by showing it. 

“Arter awhile Mrs. Webler sent me a twenty dollar 
gold piece, and asked if I would take that and not 
show it any more in that town. I saw she was a 
kind-hearted woman, and tuk great pity on the poor 
thing, and I tuk the money, 

“Next mornin’ I bid ^em all good-by. Mrs. Webler 
said, ‘ Good-by, Uncle, I suppose we will never see you 
again : It will be too much out of the way for you to 
come to Memphis again, on your way home.’ 

“ Jist afore I war a goin’ away, I went to William 
Henry Harrison McGee, and says to him, ‘ Whar ’s 
Mr. Jinkins : Air you ready ?’ 

“ ‘ Ready for what ?’ says he. 

“ ‘ Why, ready to go out with me and take a hand 
organ along. I ’m a waitin’ for both of you.’ 

“And he says, ‘ Uncle, please excuse us. The fact 
is, we’ve changed our minds. We are afraid the 
expenses of the trip will swallow ujd all of the 
profits.’ 

“ Oh, no ; I told him we can live cheap. Half a 
dollar a day will be enough for each of us, and as I said 


CH4TTAN00GA. 


185 


this, he gin me a hard stare. ‘ Why, half a dollar a day 
won’t pay for our julips.’ 

My eyes were opened on the spot ; for, if they 
spent money at that rate, I would he broke up in a 
week, and so I bid him good-by, and ain’t seen him nor 
any of the rest of the family since. That ’s what ’s 
become of the McGees, squire. 

Squire, thar ’s one thing more about the McGees 
that I ought to tell you.” 

‘‘What is it, Giles ?” 

“Well, squire, it’s this: My sister Katy tolled me 
about the gals going every summer down to the sea- 
shore to wash themselves, as if the Mississippi were not 
big enough to wash in, and how one young feller fell in 
love with little Katy, and come all the way to Memphis 
to see her.” 

At this point Giles started from his seat ; his stilf, 
gray hair stood up ; his eyes expanded to twice their 
usual size. 

Strong, who had heard of his violent attack a few 
days before, supposed he was subject to some kind of 
fits, and was greatly alarmed. He sprang up by the 
side of Giles — “What’s the matter, Giles? What’s 
the matter with you? Are you sick?” Bat, before 
Giles could reply, the door opened, and — “ How de-do 
now, Mr. Giles. How is your 1-e-g-s now", Mr. Giles ?” 
came from a little, lean, narrow, w^eazened-face woman, 
the female counterpart of Jim Wilson. “ Mr. Giles,' 
you went away from our house this morning in sich a 
tarnal hurry, that you forgot the Shaker linament to 
oint your legs with, and as soon as ever T found it out, 
I had my mule saddled and fetched it over to you. 
It ’s a powerful thing to kill pain, Mr. Giles — especially 
16 


186 


CHATTANOOGA. 


in the legs. , Here it is, Mr. Giles/' and as she said 
this, she pulled from the same old, black, ragged sad- 
dle-bags that Jim Wilson had brought over on his visit 
to the tavern, a bottle about a foot high and four inches 
across, half full of a thick, white fluid; ‘‘Here it is, 
Mr. Giles. You must allers shake the bottle so, afore 
you put it on,’' shaking the bottle with great vigor; 
“and its the best thing for rheumatiz and pains in the 
legs in the whole world. Try some of it ; only a little 
at first, and see how soon you '11 get well.” 

This long speech gave Giles time to become more 
composed. He shook hands with the widow, and mak- 
ing a low bow to Mr. Strong, said : “ Let me have the 
honor to introduce to you Mrs. Betsy Jones. She 's 
Mr. Wilson’s sister what were here a few days ago.” 

Mrs. Betsy Jones made a low courtesy to Mr. 
Strong, and said that she was mighty glad to become 
acquainted with any friend of Mr. Giles — even if he 
•were a Yankee. 

Mr. Strong said he was always happy to become ac- 
quainted with handsome young widows. 

Mrs. Betsy Jones held the Linament bottle before her 
face, and said the gentleman was surely a jokin’ when 
he told her she was handsome — “Ain’t he, Mr. Giles?” 

Mr. Giles said he didn’t believe Mr. Strong ever 
said a joke in all his life. He had a better opinion of 
him nor that. 

Mrs. Jones put the linament bottle on the table. 
“Do, ’ef you please, oint your legs with this linament. 
It ’s Shaker’s linament, Mr. Giles, and is sartin to cure 
you. Your legs, Mr. Giles, is — they is indeed — pre- 
cious in the sight of your friends, and you must take 
good keer of ’em.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 187 

“Yes. ma'm/’ said Tom Giles, “I've got need of 
'em, and mean to keep 'em allers ready for use.^^ 

“Do, Mr. Giles, do take good keer of 'em; for, if 
you should lose ^em, you’ll neve^get a better parr.” 

Tom smiled at this compliment, and the widow said: 
“ I can’t stay no longer, Mr. Giles. I jist rid over out 
of consarn for you, bein’ as you is afflicted.” 

“Yes, ma’m,” said Tom, “I’s terribly afflicted.” 

“ You ought to take keer of yourself, and more nor 
that, you ought to have somebody to take keer of 
you.” 

“Yes, ma’m,” said Giles, “I’ll take good keer of 
myself, you may depend on that.” 

“ I must go,” said Mrs. Jones. “ 'Ef I can get one 
of you gentlemen jist to help me on my mule, I ’ll be 
obleedged to you, cause the animal, you see, is a little 
skittish sometimes — in course, though I can hardly ex- 
pect Mr. Strong here to wait on me, bein’ as we never 
seed one another afore.” 

Giles went with Mrs. Jones to the bars, and helped 
her to mount a poor, old, half blind mule, that, per- 
haps, was a little skittish twenty years before, when 
it was a colt. 

Mrs. Betsy Jones held his hand for some minutes, 
and as she rode off, said : “ Do come and see us soon, 
Mr. Giles, and take good keer of your legs.” 

“ I ’ll do that thing, you may be sarten,” said Tom', 
as he returned to the house. 

“Squire,” said Giles, “you ’ve seen now, with your 
own eyes, that there is more terrible things in this 
world nor splitting the Union, and sprinklin’ salt on 
the ’Merican eagle’s tail. A widder, inting your legs 
with Shaker linament, beats it all hollow. I got a 


188 


CHATTANOOGA. 


glimpse of her old, black sunbonnet as she come past 
the window, and I were scared, squire — that’s a fact.’^ 
Giles,’^ said Strong, you forgot to tell me what 
became of Mr. Bean^ the agent for the Missionary 
Society.^’ 

“ So I did, squire, and I have not much to say about 
him now, ^cause, you see, arter awhile he left us, and 
put on a blue coat with yellow-metal buttons, and 
turned out a great Reformer, I Ve heard he were a 
ringleader among the Campbellites, but I don’t know? 
and what Tom Giles don’t know, you, who know me 
BO well now, in course don’t expect me to tell.^’ 

“ Of course not,’’ said Strong. 


CHAPTEE XXII. 


A FEW months after the death of Father Blowhard, 
as Mr. Brandon was riding one day not far from his 
house, he heard some person on horseback rapidly foB 
lowing him. He looked behind him and saw a man 
with a long, thin, sunburnt face, who was dressed in a 
fLill suit of rusty black, and covered with an old, brown 
cloak, gallopping after him. Brandon slackened his 
pace to enable the stranger to overtake him, but when 
he got within a few yards of him, the stranger checked 
his horse also, and rode slowly behind Brandon. 

The man immediately began to sing in a voice so 
loud, that he could be heard at the distance of half a 
mile : 

“ I tell you whar I feel the best, 

Among the shouting Methodest; 

I tell you whar I feel the best, 

Among the shouting Methodest/’ 

As soon as he began, Brandon whipped his horse 
and started on a gallop to get out of his way. The 
stranger followed at the same pace, and soon overtook 
him. 

Brandon bowed to him — A pleasant day, sir.*’ 
Yes,’’ said the stranger, with a sigh, ^‘all days — all 
times are pleasant to him who has perfect peace with 
God, whose sins are forgiven, and whose iniquities are 
covered, and whose heart is always filled with the glad 
sunshine of perfect love. My peace flows as a river — 
even as Jordan when his banks are full. I hope, 

189 


190 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Stranger, that you are enjoying the blessing of perfect 
love/^ 

Thank you, sir,’’ said Brandon. do not, how- 
ever, enjoy the blissful peace you speak of.” 

‘^Lose no time, then, stranger, in seeking after that 
pearl of great price. It will be useful to you when 
earthly riches take to themselves wings and fly away. 
It will endure forever and ever.” 

‘‘ I thank you, sir, for the kind interest you take in 
my welfare,” said Brandon, ^^and shall endeaver to 
profit by your exortation.” 

They rode on together for a few minutes in silence, 
and Brandon had a better opportunity to look at the 
stranger than he had before : although he was riding a 
large horse, his legs were so long, that they nearly 
reached the ground. He was dressed in the costume 
of a Methodist preacher. His chest and shoulders were 
narrow — he raised his hat — his thick, black hair was 
combed down over his forehead, and his ears and hands 
were very long and thin. 

At length the stranger turned his face toward Bran- 
don, and said: My name is Jabez Glitters. I once 
was one of the preachers in change on this circuit, but 
I have located now and live near this place. It seems 
to me, brother, I have seen your face before, but I 
can’t call your name — perhaps it was at camp-meeting 
last n[K)nth. 

It may be that you have seen me before ; but if 
you have, I do not remember it. I am very sure, 
however, that you never saw me at a camp -meeting, 
for I never was at such a place in my life.” 

‘‘You are not a Methodist, then, brother?” 

“No, sir.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


191 


A Presbyterian 

‘^No, sir.’' 

Ah, a Baptist, I see?’’ 

No, no ; I am an Episcopalian.” 

Ah,” said the Reverend Jabez Glitters, ^‘very good. 
This country is filling up very fast. Hundreds of 
families have couie into it within the last five or six 
years. The fine lands in this neighborhood have in- 
duced a great many persons to move out here. But I 
did not know that any person of your denomination had 
come yet.” 

We have two or three families of our church in this 
neighborhood,” replied Brandon. 

^‘Whar did you come from,” said the Reverend 
Jabez Glitters. 

I came from Garoline county, Virginia.” 

^^What might your name be, stranger?” 

My name is Hugh Smith Brandon.” 

‘‘Well, sir,” said Jabez, giving his hand to Brandon, 
“you’re welcome to this settlement. I’m glad to 
make your acquaintance, sir.” 

“Thank you, sir,” said Brandon, taking Glitters by 
the hand. “ It is very pleasant to be cordially received 
by my new neighbors.” 

“Much of a family?’' said Jabez. 

“No, sir; only a daughter and a grand-daughter, 
with me and a few servants.” 

“Daughter married, sir? Whar do you live, stran- 
ger?” 

“ I bought my plantation of Mr. Edwards.” 

“ Ah, Edwards has sold out at last. Well, he’s been 
trying to do so for two years, and it ’s a wonder that I 
have not heard of it before. Well, sir, you have got 


192 


CHATTANOOGA. 


a very nice little place, good land, lately cleared, and 
plenty of good water, the building is not much though, 
only a cabin, with four rooms and a kitchen, and some 
out houses for the servants.” 

‘‘ They suit me very well, sir,” said Brandon, dryly 

‘‘Well, they may,” said Jabez. “ Who wouldn't be 
suited with a house and four rooms ? Does any man 
want a thousand rooms to live in, in this sublunary 
world? Well, Mr. Brandon, you ’ve got a nice little 
place; you join Mr. Eashleigh on one side, and Mr. 
Norton on the other. I live only about two miles from 
you, but on the other side of Rashleighs. I ’m one of 
the first settlers in these parts, and you ’re welcome t4 
our settlement, Mr. Brandon.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“ Mr. Brandon, that ’s a pretty good boss you ’rc 
riding. How will you swop it ?” 

“Exchange horses, sir? I do not wish to do so. 
This is my family riding horse,” said Brandon, with a 
look of surprise at the Reverend Jabez Glitters. 

They rode on in silence for awhile, which the Rever- 
end Jabez broke by saying — “Mr. Brandon, I have got 
some very good books in my saddle bags which I want 
to sell. Will you look at them?’^ 

“ What books are they, sir ?” 

“I have the lives of Freeborn Garrison and Mrs. 
Fletcher.” 

“ I never heard of these people before, and take no 
interest in . their biographies. Have you nothing 
else?” 

“Yes, sir; I have Sherlock on Providence.” 

“ A.h, that is an old and good book. I read it at 
college. What is the price of it?” Jabez named the 


CHATTANOOGA. 


193 


price, and the small sum was paid. Brandon seized the 
book eagerly, kissed it, and said: It is a great 
treasure. I am glad, sir, that you overtook me. The 
book is a prize I little expected to find in this half wil- 
derness.’’ 

‘‘Good-by, neighbor,” said the Reverend Jabez Glit- 
ters, giving Brandon his hand. “ I must turn out here 
at this tree. I hope to meet you often.” 

“Good-by, sir.’ 

There was a sadness on the countenance of Brandon, 
which had not escaped the keen stare of Glitters, 
but Brandon was so dignified in his carriage, that he 
did not venture to inquire its cause. 

Mr. Brandon rode slowly on — his white hair lifted 
by the wind, until he reached his home. 

“Have you a letter, father? You have been to the 
post office, I believe. Now, it really is so strange that 
we are so soon neglected by those who ought to cherish 
our memories, and it is sadly inconvenient to be at this 
time without the promised remittance.” 

“No; but the mails in this new country, Martha, 
are very irregular ; let us hope that in a few days the 
promised aid will come.” 

“I hope so, father. In the meantime we will get 
along as we can. That last letter has made me nervous 
and almost sick. I fear, from the statements in the 
letter, that he does know where we have moved to, and 
will follow and annoy us.” 

“Let us hope for the best, Martha. Your fears may 
be groundless.” 

“I have suffered so much from him, father, and you 
have also, that I do hope our friends will be discreet 
enough to conceal the place of our new home ; if 
17 


194 


CHATTANOOGA. 


he shall follow us, I fear that as we are now removed 
from those who have known and sympathized with 
us, our situation here will be worse than it was in 
Virginia 

“Do not fear, daughter. The troubles that never 
come, always seems greater than those we actually 
endure.'^ 


CHAPTEE XXIIT. 


The Reverend Theophilus Blowhard died unmarried, 
and without any relations for whom he cared to pro- 
vide, and by his last will he left all his property to his 
well-beloved and faithful friend, Jabez Glitters, to be 
sold, and the proceeds, after payment of his debts and 
expenses of administration, to be applied to sundry be- 
nevolent purposes, especially to aid in building a new 
meeting-house, and for the Missionary -Society. 

Jabez took it to a lawyer and learned that Min- 
na’s child was included in the provisions of the will, 
and as a faithful executor, he immediately w^ent to work 
to recover possession of the property. His first care 
was to find McGee, and, if possible, to obtain a repay- 
ment of the hundred dollars, and a reconveyance of the 
ten acres of land ; but he learned McGee had moved 
very soon after Blowhard’s death to the town on the 
Mississippi where the ten acres of land was situated. 
Nothing was left, therefore, but to discharge, as he 
said, with a sigh, his duty as an executor to his deceased 
friend, and to capture the child without delay. 

“I feel a deep sense of duty, brethren,’’ he said, to 
his friends, in this matter — duty, as executor of that 
holy man who has gone before us over the dark rolling 
waters of Jordan’s turbid stream, which separates that 
happy land from ours, and of duty as a patriot and a 
Christian, because, you see, brethren, slavery is essen- 
tial to the happiness and well being, and prosperity of 
195 


196 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the state, nation, and people, and because it is a Bible 
institution. Abraham was a slave-holder, and had men 
servants, and women servants, and asses, and camels, 
and silver, and gold. Isaac was a slave-holder, and 
had men servants, and maid servants, and asses, and 
camels, and silver, and gold. Jacob was a slave-holder, 
and had men servants, and maid servants, and asses, 
and camels, and silver, and gold. Slave-holding is 
right. By means of it the treasuries of our societies 
are replenished, and filled up with gold, and silver, and 
bank-notes. Brethren,^' said he, with a groan, 
don’t intend to rust out, but to warr out, and however 
great, and severe, and arduous, and difiicult the work 
and labor, and care, and toil may be, I feel in duty 
bound, in conscience bound, in honor bound as an exe- 
cutor, and as a patriot, and as a Christian, and as a 
philanthropist, and as a man, to catch that little 
negro. 

His friends, who stood weeping around him, now 
looked up and smiled ; two or three of the men said, 
*‘Amen.” Some others, however, of the members of 
the church, stood aloof, and said they would take no 
part in the matter, one way or the other. He might 
catch it if he could, but without their aid. 

Another hunt was determined upon, and a day ap- 
pointed for the purpose. Men were sent out to invite 
the neighbors to take part in the hunt, and it was found 
on this occasion, as it had been before, that those who 
drank the most whisky, were the best patriots. 

Norton was a candidate for the legislature; of course 
he was foremost in the cause, and almost as zealous as the 
Reverend Jabez Glitters himself in supporting the sys- 
tem of slave-holding. His arguments were different 


CHATTANOOGA. 


197 


from those of the reverend gentleman, although they 
both came to the same result. All who were opposed 
to slavery, were fools and mad men, and in favor of 
dissolving the Union, of ruining the masters, and burn- 
ing their houses over their heads, and destroying their 
wives and children, and, therefore, ought to be burnt 
or hung. 

Norton was leader of the party, and directed the 
whole company to the mountains. They made an early 
start and reached them before sunrise. The party was 
not large, and their proceedings had been conducted 
with great secrecy. A loud shout was heard, and a tin 
horn was blown, which was answered by a dozen more, 
and the party collected at the mouth of the cave. Very 
soon Bill Harris came out, leading blind Minna and 
holding in his arms the little half clad child. A loud 
shout made the mountains echo around them, and the 
Reverend Jabez Glitters crossed his hands over his 
breast, and raised his eyes so high, that only the white 
of them could be seen. 

Old Minna, too, crossed her hands upon her breast, 
and stood in silence. She raised her white eyeballs to 
heaven, and the big tears followed each other rapidly 
down her scarred cheeks. 

They gathered around her : Oh, men V’ she said, 
‘‘for de Lord’s sake — for marcy’s sake, don’t take 
from me all the child I ’se got. I ’se had five children, 
and one arter another has been sold, and now de good 
Lord, for to comfort me, has gin me one more; dis -lit- 
tle one ; don’t tar it from me — it will kill me. My 
heart is a’ most broke already. It ’s mighty hard, men, 
for a mother to have her own child tuk away from 
her.” 


198 


CHATTANOOGA. 


none of your child/^ said the Reverend Jabez 
Glitters. ‘‘You have neither bought it, nor paid for it. 
You have given neither silver, nor gold, nor bank- 
notes, nor he asses, nor she asses, nor horses, nor 
camels for it. It is my property, to be applied for the 
propagation and extension of the gospel in foreign 
parts and nations, and to build a new meeting-house. 
It has been left, and devised, and bequeathed to me by 
the last, and only will and testament of Father Blow- 
hard, now deceased, and dead, and buried, and gone to 
glory, and to heaven, of which will and testament I am 
the executor, and in duty bound as such, and as a 
patriot, and as a Christian, and as a philanthropist and 
a man, to carry it into full and complete effect and 
operation. How dare you have the impudence and 
audacity, and fool-hardiness, and wickedness, and de- 
pravity to assert, and state, and declare that this nigger 
is your child? You h*e a thief, and rob, and steal, from 
the church of God.’’ 

“ Master, I did not mean no harm to the church in 
what I ’s said. The Lord gin me the child, and I 
thought it was mine.” 

“You thought, eh. Who gave you — you a negro 
woman — the right to think, or opine, or conjecture, or 
deliberate, or have opinions ? Your impudence and 
audacity exceeds all limits and bounds. You are, I 
repeat, trying to rob and steal from, and embezzle the 
property of the Missionary Society for the propagation 
and extension, and diffusion of the light, and blessings, 
and benefits, and priviliges of the glorious and blessed 
gospel of free grace in foreign lands, and nations, and 
people, and the property of the church.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


199 


Master, do forgive me. I did not mean no harm to 
the gospel.’^ 

“Ask God to forgive you, woman, and don’t ask 
such a thing or request from a poor, weak, sinful mor- 
tal, and fallable man, and feeble worm of the dust as I 
am. 

Poor old Minna was sad. She groped her way to a 
tree, and leaned against it. 

“ You, and your husband and consort, and partner 
in crime,” said the Reverend Jabez Glitters, “have not 
only broken and set at naught, and violated the law of 
God, in stealing and running away with, and carrying 
off the property of the Missionary Society, for the ex- 
tension and spread of the glorious and blessed gospel 
of free grace in foreign parts, and among strange peo- 
ple who have never heard its glorious sound, and felt 
its blessed, and benign, and healthful, and soul-reviving 
influences and effects, but you have broken and vio- 
lated, and trampled on the laws of the State of Tennes- 
see, which enact and forbid the harboring, aiding, 
abetting, or supporting of a runaway, fugitive slave, 
and you must go to the penitentiary for so doing, and 
doing so. It ’s my bounden duty, as executor, and as 
a Christian, and a patriot, and a man, now to have you 
seized, and taken, and captured, so that you may be 
examined, and tried, and convicted, and sentenced, and 
punished as an example, and terror to all others, in 
like cases, and in like manner found offending, and 
doing as you have done.” 

Minna put her apron over her eyes, and leaned 
heavily against the tree. 

A man came up to the Reverend Jabez Glitters, 
touched his elbow, and led him aside. “ Have you not 

189 


200 


CHATTANOOGA. 


done enongli, my friend ? You have the child. Why 
should you trouble the woman any further, she is old 
and blind ; it will not do any good to send her to the 
penitentiary.’' 

‘‘Brother,” said the Eeverend Jabez Glitters, “it’s 
a case of conscience, and honor, and patriotism, and 
good demeanor toward the State. The offense of which 
this woman is guilty, is a deep, and a grevious, 
and a horrible sin. She has stolen church property? 
which is a sacrilege, you know, and deprived the church 
of it for months, when the money for which the child 
might have been sold, is so greatly wanted and needed 
to propagate and extend the blessed and glorious gos- 
pel in foreign parts, and among heathen nations, and 
foreign people, and to build a new meeting-house. I 
would if I could, and dare forgive the erring, and 
sinful, and wicked creature ; but it is a case of con- 
science, and honor, and duty, brother,” here he sighed, 
“and I must go on with it and proceed.” 

“Very well, sir. But do you know that you have no 
right to apply the money in your hands to carry on the 
prosecution ? You can proceed, if you choose, but you 
must do so at your own cost.” 

The Reverend Jabez Glitters put his hand to his 
forehead, and deliberated, and thought, and studied for 
one minute, and then said: “Brother, I thank you for 
the information, and advice, and council you have given 
me. Woman,” he said, approaching Minna, “I forgive 
you, and remit the offense of which you have been 
guilty against the dignity, and power, and peace, and 
honor of the State of Tennessee, and I hope and ex- 
pect that this act of mercy and forgiveness on my part, 
will have its due and proper effect on your heart, and 


CHATTANOOGA. 


201 


character,- and life, and conduct. A man of the world 
would not have done so ; but I am a Christian, and 
must be merciful and forgiving even as I hope for mercy 
and forgiveness. 

‘‘ Thankee, master,’' said Minna, courtsying to him. 

Aint you gwine to gin me my child back ?” 

‘‘Why, you wicked, and ungrateful, and obstinate, 
and hard-hearted old creature. In the very act and 
moment that you receive forgiveness, you want me to 
help you rob the church and Missionary Society, for the 
propagation and extension of the gospel among heathen 
nations in foreign parts, and among strange people, 
of its goods and chatties, rights, credits, and property, 
and effects. Oh, brothers,” he said, looking around 
him, “ see the shocking depravity of the human soul 
and heart, and how prone it is to evil — ’specially in 
niggers.” 

“Master,” said Minna, “that child is mine. God 
gave it to me. If your church takes it, your church is 
a thief and robber. God is not so far off as some 
people think. He is looking right down on you, and 
sees my child in your hand as he does a sparrow when 
it falls to the ground. If you take my child away, 
you will ruin it, and kill me. Murder and robbery is no 
light things in God’s sight.” 

“ Knock her down,” said one of the men; “stop her 
impudence.” 

“Kill me, if you chose — kill me. I had rather die 
than live. I beg you to kill me at once, and put me out 
of my misery. It would be merciful in you to do so, but 
I will talk while I ’ve life and breath. I tell you now 
that I’ll take this whole thing and lay it afore the 
Lord, and tell him all you have said and done, and I ’ll 
leave the whole matter in his hands.” 


202 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Woman/’ said the Keverend Jabez Glitters, it ’s 
my blessed lot, and privilege, and duty, to be a preacher 
of the gospel, and on next Sabath, -providence permit- 
ting, I intend and expect to preach in the Pisgah meet- 
ing-house on the sin and iniquity of covetousness, and 
if you and your husband will come there, you may sit 
on one of the back benches, and hear me, and be en- 
lightened on that subject on which, at this present time, 
you are in gross and heathenish darkness. Come, 
woman, and bring your erring and sinful husband with 
you. It may be a permanent and everlasting blessing 
to both of you, and, in the meantime, I will pray and 
entreat the Lord that you may be forgiven your great 
and heathenish sin, and iniquity, and transgression. 
You see now what a great and glorious thing it is to be 
a Christian. A worldly minded man would not be so 
merciful to you. But I forgive you and even pray for 
you. Go thy way, woman, and sin no more.” 

The men started with the child. Minna, guided by 
the noise of their footsteps, and the cries of the child, 
followed them, shrieking aloud, groping and stumbling 
in her blindness, until she could no longer hear them, 
and then fell into a deep ravine. 

^‘This is a fine, hearty child,” said the Reverend 
Jabez Glitters, who had it in his arms. ‘‘Worth at 
least four hundred dollars in cash. Father Blowhard 
was a real and sincere benefactor to the church. He 
has proved his zeal in the cause by his good works, and 
charity, and beneficence, which are remembered, and 
will be had in memory long after his decease and 
death.” 

“ Don’t you think,” said Stebbins, the lame tailor 
who was limping by his side, “ that it is a kind of hard 
to take that ar child from its own mother.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


203 


dear Brother Stebbins, the thought you have 
just uttered is a suggestion of Satan, and the devil, 
and of the evil one. Tell him, and command him to 
get behind you and to retire, and go away from you. 
And, like a fiend and enemy of mankind, and of the 
human race, as he is, he has struck at, and assailed, 
and hit the very point, marrow, and gist of the whole 
question and controversy between the friends and 
patrons, and supportors of our beloved and time-hon- 
ored, and Christian institution of slavery, and the foes 
and enemies of that institution; because if the mother 
and father have a better right and title to, and interest 
in and for the child, than the master and owner on the 
day and hour it is born, that better right, and title, and 
interest will continue, and remain, and exist, till the 
child grows up to be a man, and of full age. If we do 
not own and possess them when they are infants and 
babies, we can not do so when they become youths ahd 
adults, and men, and women, and in their old age.^’ 

‘‘I see it now,’’ said Stebbins; ‘‘if you have no right 
to the babies, you have none when they grow up to be 
men and women.” 

“Exactly and precisely so. Brother Stebbins. I am 
glad and rejoiced that I have been able in so few words 
to explain and unravel the whole matter and thing to 
you, so that you do clearly and fully comprehend, and 
understand, and know it.” 

“But she said, sir, that God gave her the child.” 

“The laws and constitution of the State of Tennes- 
see, and the customs of the country, and the Constitu- 
tion of the United States, and the laws of the United 
States, give this child to its master and owner, and that 
master and owner, therefore, and for that reason, has 


204 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the right and title to it, and to have and to hold the 
nse and the possession, and the benefit thereof, and of 
it.’’ 

see it now,” said Stehbins. ^‘Laws of God give 
it to its father and mother, and the laws of men give it 
to the master.” 

Precisely and exactly so, Brother Stehbins. In 
this world we are governed and controlled by the laws 
of man. In the next world we must and will obey, and 
be governed by the laws of God.” 

‘‘Yes; that’s it. If you’ll preach that doctrine, you 
will have a great many hearers.” 

“I have no time. Brother Stehbins, to turn aside to 
preach that doctrine. My hands are now full with a 
controversy and question, I have just now and at this 
time, with the Universalists, and when I shall have 
routed, and beaten, and driven them from the field, 
perhaps I may turn my attention, and give my time to 
other and less important matters.” 


CHAPTER XXIY. 


The child, which, at first, after a slight struggle, 
seemed quietly to yield itself to the embrace of Glitters, 
now began, when it could no longer see its mother, to 
cry and scream with its utmost power. All the men 
had left Jabez and Stebbins, and gone home with Nor- 
ton, whose promises to reward their labor for the state 
with whiskey, were more acceptable than those of Jabez 
to pay in preaching. They were out of hearing and out 
of sight. The struggles of the child, and its screams 
increased, and became more furious, Jabez, at first, 
tried to sooth it ; he tried even to flatter it, by telling 
him he was a pretty boy, but little Isham was neither 
to be soothed nor flattered. He kicked and screamed 
so much, that the feeble Jabez could scarcely retain 
him in his arms. Jabez then pinched him, but each 
pinch only called out a louder scream and more vehe- 
ment struggles. He then called him a brat, and shook 
him till he was half breathless; but, the little fellow 
soon recovered, and seized Jabez by the top of his right 
ear. Jabez withdrew the support of his arms from the 
child, and it hung to his ear, supported only by its 
teeth, for a minute, and then fell, but carried in its fall 
a piece of the ear, about the size and shape of a dime. 
Jabez clapped his hand to the wound, and uttered some 
words which, if we were now to tell what they were, 
would be to anticipate our story. In an instant, a 
woman, dressed in black, riding on a small and beau- 
( 205 ) 


206 


CHATTANOOGA. 


tiful black pony, came up, at full speed, and belabored 
the head and shoulders of Jabez with her riding whip. 
She was followed by four Indians, running on foot, who 
uttered loud yells as they approached. Jabez gave one 
look at them and fled. 

The shouts of the men, when they captured the child, 
and the sound of their tin horns, advised some of the 
Indians who happened to be near the place, that a 
tumult of some kind had occurred. They ran as fast 
as they could toward the place, and saw the capture, 
and made prompt pursuit. Isham, who was out of the 
cave at the time, soon came back, and in less than half 
an hour after it was captured, the child was returned 
to its parents. 

They immediately removed to another and a better 
hiding place in a deeper recess of the mountains, and 
were, for the present, safe ; and were guarded by their 
now vigilant sentinels — the Indians. 

It would be as vain to attempt to describe the joy of 
the parents upon the recovery of the child, as it would 
be to paint their sorrow at its loss. 

There are feelings which neither the pen nor pencil 
can paint. Sorrows so deep and joys so thrilling, that 
those only who have felt them can know them, and man 
has yet no words to utter them in speech. 

They were happy — their child was safe. They had 
friends toward whom their hearts swelled with unutter- 
able gratitude. 

The Reverend Jabez Glitters was sad. His efibrts 
to recapture the child had been defeated. The church 
was suffering for money — the heathen were sitting in 
darkness and in the shadow of death ; and the money to 
dispel part of that darkness had been wrested from his 


CHATTANOOGA. 


207 


hands. And then his ear — his right ear, with a little 
round hole in the top of it, about as big as a ten cent 
piece, was sore, and smarted severely. It bled but a 
drop or two, for that part of him was as thin as paper. 
He wiped the blood from it with his handkerchief, and 
after the fright and the danger of further pursuit was 
over; he walked slowly and sadly toward his home. 
‘‘Such,’’ he said, “is the lot of Christians in this wicked 
world. We can make no effort to do good but Satan 
tries to thwart us. Evil prospers, because this world 
is its natural place — good decays here because it is 
a plant that prospers only in a brighter and better 
clime.” 

When he reached his home, his friends gathered 
round him to console him for his loss. But he refused 
to be comforted. “He could have borne,” he said, 
“the loss of his ear, but to lose the child was too much — 
too much for mortal, sinful man to endure, unless, 
indeed, he had a source of comfort that the world knew 
not of.” 

A doctor was sent for — the only one in the settle- 
ment, except Isham, (whose services were not needed on 
this occasion,) and he came. He was a young man who 
had just graduated, and come to the neighborhood to 
commence the practice of his profession. He consulted 
with Jabez, and with his friends. No expedient could 
be suggested to fill up the hole in the top of his ear. 
But he modestly suggested that as his patients’ ears 
were unusually thin and long, the better way would 
be to cut off the top of the ear. The suggestion was 
hailed by Jabez and his friends with rapture. It would 
remove the ugly hole which Jabez said some people 
who did not know him might see, and his enemies would 


208 


CHATTANOOGA. 


say it had been made as a mark upon him for sheep 
stealing. said Jabez, ‘^when you do that, one 

ear will be longer than the other, and the same scandal 
may be raised against me.’’ 

‘‘Never fear,” said the doctor, “I can remedy that. 
I will clip them both off to the same size., and I do 
assure you they are so long now, that when they are 
clipped they will look all the better for it.” 

The young doctor had no surgical instruments. 
None could be had nearer than Nashville, and with a 
promptness and an ingenuity that does credit to his 
profession, he called for a large pair of shears, which 
were brought to him by a girl, and while some men 
held Jabez, he trimmed first the bitten ear, and then he 
reduced the other to the same size. He worked as 
leisurely as a barber cutting hair — now clipping at one 
place, and now at an other, then standing before the 
patient, and consulting his friends whether both ears 
were of the same size, and then nicked off another little 
piece, and now a rough edge, and now a corner, 
till the task was done. All agreed that his ears 
looked better than they did before. When the plasters 
were applied and all was done, Jabez looked up with a 
sad smile, and said: “Some calamities are blessings in 
disguise. Oh, the weakness of erring mortals — the 
afflictions of the saints are blessings indeed!” 

The next morning when little Isham got out of his 
bed, and was dressed by his mother in his father’s old 
coat, which was covered with patches of various colors, 
and hung down so far below his feet, that it trailed be- 
hind him on the ground; he presented a spectacle 
that alarmed his father, and which, but for his great 
suffering, would have amused any other person. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


209 


Although Mr. Strong can not but in candor admit, 
that he feels som^e partiality for the persons whose 
names appear in this narrative, yet, he can not and 
will not allow that feeling so far to control him, as that 
he, in any degree, will exaggerate the beauty of any one 
of them ; and, it must be confessed, that little Isham 
never was a beauty. His legs were always very 
crooked — his nose was flat, and his lips very large. 
And on the morning after he w^as rescued, his head and 
lips were swollen so enormously, that he resembled an 
ape rather than a human being. 

‘‘What on airth is the matter wid de child, said old 
Isham, as Minna brought it Out from its bed toward 
him. “What on airth ails him?’' 

“Don’t know,” said Minna. “May be he got bruised 
in the scrape yesterday.” 

Isham opened his arms and his little son toddled to 
him. He then examined his face, and mouth and nose. 

“ This is the most worst case of swellin’ I ’se ever 
seen in all my practice. Why, Minna, woman, jist 
come here and feel de child’s nose ; it ’s most as big as 
a goose egg, and the lips is more than two inches thick, 
and stick out half as long as your hand. I never see 
sich a case afore in all my practice, and thar ’s not a 
bruise on his^head.” 

Minna passed her hand slowly down her child’s face. 
“Dear me,” she said, “I’d hardly know dis was my 
child. Do something for him quick, or he ’ll die.” 

Isham examined and re-examined the child’s face, 
then looked at his bands and feet, and felt his pulse. 
“This is the oddest case I ’se ever met with in the 
course of a twenty year practice of medicine. I always 
could tell what ailed a patient as soon as I seen him; 

18 


210 


CHATTANOOGA. 


but this case beats me out. I ’se afeared it ’s ’bove the 
reach of my skill, in my ’pinion.’' 

During the day the old man washed little Isham’s 
mouth and nose with decoctions of roots and herbs, and 
applied a poultice of slippery elm bark to them, but 
all his applications seemed to be of no service. The 
swelling increased, and the features of the poor, suffer- 
ing child were more frightfully distorted than before. 

At night one of the four Indians that rescued the 
child, came to the hut of old Isham and Minna. He 
brought with him a little, leathery looking substance, 
very thin and quite round, about as big as a dime, 
which he said he took from the child’s mouth soon after 
he got him from Glitters. Old Isham seized it, and 
turned it over and over, and examined it by the light 
of the fire. 

This,” he said, looks like a piece of eel skin more 
than anything else; but how in the world the child’s 
got it in his mouth, I can’t tell, unless that preacher 
put it thar to stop his crying.” 

Very soon afterward another Indian came, who had 
been down in the white settlement that day, and had 
there heard that the child had bitten out a piece of the 
preacher’s ear. As soon as he had made his state- 
ment, old Isham dropped his head between his hands, 
and uttered a deep groan. He then raised it, and 
looked sadly at his child — his voice trembled and his 
hands shook. He was afraid to speak. Minna stood 
by the bench on which he was sitting. 

“For de Lord’s sake, Ish, do tell me what you think 
now ’bout the chile. I know something dreadful is the 
matter, ’cause I can hear you trying to smother your 
groans.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 211 

’s no use to keep it secret — dat chile will die. It 
can’t be saved.'' 

Oh, don’t say so, Isham. It ken be cured. You 
must cure the baby.” 

‘‘ It 's no use trying. Anybody can cure a rattle- 
snake’s bite, but its mighty few doctors as can cure a 
man as has bit a rattlesnake. I had one case of that 
kind, and it tuk me a month to do it, and then I come 
nigh losing my patient. But to bite a preacher when 
he 's hot in chasing a nigger, is sartain death — 'spe- 
cially if blood 's drawn. All the books on pizens lays 
down that particular case as one that no man can 
cure.” 

‘‘Giles,” said Mr. Strong, “I see plainly enough 
that if any body shall be so incredulous as to deny any 
part of this book, this very chapter is the one that will 
be assailed with the greatest bitterness. Are you sure 
that the statements are all right ?” 

“I'm mighty sorry, squire, that I can't tell you, 
’cause, you see, I allers believed and yet think, that 
both them shots made by McGee’s rifle at the shootin’ 
match were mere chance ones. His rifle barl allers 
appeared crooked to me ; but be that as it may, when 
they axed me to take part in hunting the little nigger, 
I would have no hand in it, partly, because I would not 
have any thing to do with the prize that he won with 
that thar rifle, and partly because I had a kind of liken 
for old Isham, and did not care to disturb him. He 
doctored in my family a long time, and were as good a 
doctor as the best of ’em. But this I do know, squire; 
Jabez Glitters lived right close by my house arter he 
located. He swapped horses, sold books and preached. 
I heard him preach once and only once, squire. He 


212 


CHATTANOOGA. 


could preach, I must confess it, squire — he could preach 
as long as a Baptist preacher, but the sarmon that I 
heard were all works — works — works — all shallow 
water, running over a black, muddy bottom, and of not 
much account. I did hear of the child’s bitin’ his 
ear. It were norated about the settlement for a little 
while, and then hushed up ; and I looked particularly 
at him while he were preachin’. He had long, black 
harr, which ’peared to have been greased, and were 
combed down over his ears so as to hide ’em. I were 
a deacon in the Baptist church, and he were a Metho- 
dist preacher, and it would n’t look right for me to be 
asking questions about it.” 

‘^That was very proper, Mr. Giles,” said Strong, 

and does great credit to your discretion.” 

Squire, if you had only thought of it when Betsy 
Jones were here, you might have known the hull 
truth.” 

‘‘Why so, Giles?” 

“Why, she’s his half sister, and lived with him at 
that very time. She were a little gal then, but not too 
young to remember a thing like that.” 


CHAPTEK XXV. 


About four o'clock in the afternoon of that day, 
Giles looked out of the window: ‘‘As sure as I^m a 
livin’ man, thar's Betsy Jones. She is now gettin’ olf 
her old mule at the horse-block.^' 

The lady hitched her mule to a stake at the fence, 
took off the old, black, saddle-bags, and in a minute 
a rap was heard at the door. She came in ; “ Gentle- 
men, I thought you ’d like to have some nice apples,'’ 
she said, as she emptied about a peck from the saddle- 
bags. “ I 've brought these over for you. These here 
red ones is very fine, and these yaller ones is fall pip- 
pins. Do help yourselves. You’re mighty welcome 
to ’em. Take this one, Mr. Giles; it 's the finest in the 
lot, and I 've laid it by on purpose for you. It ’s so 
nice and mellow.” And she handed the apple with a 
bewitching smile — a widow’s smile. 

“ Thank you,” said Giles, as he took a large, yelloAV 
apple from her hand. 

Mr. Strong said: “I am glad you have come over 
just at this time, because we are now passing over a 
part of my book, of which Mr. Giles informs me you 
have some knowledge ; relating to the Reverend Jabez 
Glitters, and a misfortune that happened to him at the 
time he captured the child of blind Minna.” 

“ Mr. — Mr. — Mr. — Yankee, I forgot your name.” 

“Mr. Strong,” said Giles. 

“ Mr. Strong, I ’m glad you are a going to put that 
( 213 ) 


214 


CHATTANOOGA. 


down in your book. Brother Jabez always said that the 
public would know the truth of the thing. When he 
lived here he was determined to preach again' the soul- 
distroymg sin of looking at monkeys, and tigers, and 
lions, and such outlandish beasts He always said if 
the Lord wanted American people to see such beasts, 
he could have made as many of them as he M a mind 
to, and turned ’em loose in our woods, so as every body 
could see ’em, and rebuked the people that went to see 
them, sharply, I tell you. Weil, that made some of the 
people mad, and Bill McClintick raised a report that 
brother Jabez was cropped for stealing a calf, and said 
it was done at the coui:t house door in Guilford County, 
in North Carolina, and that he stood by and saw the 
sheriff do it. Now, Mr. Strong, that were a tarnal lie, 
as I know of my own personal knowledge. Because, 
you see, I lived with him, and combed his harr some- 
times when I was a little girl, and his ears were as long 
as the best man’s in the settlement, till he cotch that 
little beast of a nigger; and w^hen he come home arter 
that, I saw two drops of blood on his cheek, and got 
a towel to wipe it off. And when the doctor came — 
Dr. John Shelly it was — he were a mighty smart 
man, only he drank himself to death — when Dr. 
Shelly called for the shears, I went to the back room 
and brought them to him my own self, and then, as I 
could not bear to see the thing done, I went out and 
sat by the kitchen fire, and covered my face with a 
check apron, till sister Martha Clitters— that ’s brother 
Jabez ’s wdfe — come and told me it were all over, and 
how much it improved brother Jabez’s looks. Then I 
went in, and saw him sitting in the chair, with his legs 
stretched out before him, and his brown cloak throwm 


CHATTANOOGA. 


215 


over them, and a white sticking plaster on the top of 
both his ears. That story about his stealing a calf and 
bein’ cropped for it, is all a lie, raised by his inemies 
to distroy his influence. He was one of the best men in 
this world.” 

‘‘Is he yet living?” said Strong. 

“No, sir; he’s been dead ten years.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Jones. I will put your statements 
in my book just as you have made them. Can you give 
me any further information about this matter?” 

“Not much that I know of ; but when brother Jabez 
died he left a great parcel of papers. They are at 
brother Wilson’s, and are headed up in an old nail keg. 
If Mr. Giles will come over he ’s mighty welcome to 
bring ’em to you.” 

Giles thanked the lady, and said he were good for 
nothing at totin now, bein’ as he had an old crick in 
his back, that he got thirty odd years ago a totin a 
looking-glass. 

“Do rub some Shaker linament on it,” said Mrs. 
Betsy Jones, “ and it will cure you right away.” 

The next morning Mr. Strong saw Mrs. Betsy Jones 
riding slowly toward the tavern, leaning over a keg 
(which laid on the mule’s neck before her,) with a long, 
peach tree switch in her hand. She was humming a 
hymn tune very slowly, and with great sadness. He 
met her at the horse-block, took the keg, and then 
helped her to dismount. 

“I allers feel so sad and melancholy-like whenever I 
tech any thing that belonged to brother Jabez. He was 
so good that I feel pious-like if I only tech an old coat 
of his’n, and bringin’ over this keg full of his papers, 
has made me so pious that I feel as if I could cry my 


216 


CHATTANOOGA. 


eyes out, and could hardly smile even if I saw Mr. Giles 
and heard that he got well.’’ 

The keg was carried into the room ; Giles unheaded 
it, and Mr. Strong poured out its contents on the table. 
It was filled with old letters and other papers. Near 
the bottom of the keg there was a small parcel, care- 
fully tied up in an old newspaper. The newspaper was 
taken off, and under it there was a wrapping of brown 
paper — that was removed, and then another wrapping 
of white paper — now discolored by dust and time — was 
disclosed, sealed with great care. Mrs. Betsy Jones 
broke the seals, and an old snuflT box, with a red and 
yellow star on the lid, fell on the table. 

She opened it, and five or six little pieces of thin, 
tough, black skin were all that it contained. Upon 
careful examination by the vdiole party, it was plain 
that these were the pieces that Dr. Shelly had cut 
from the ears of Jabez Glitters. They answered the 
discription exactly, and after being steeped for half an 
hour in a tumbler of water, they resumed their natural 
appearance. There was the identical hole, as big as a 
ten cent piece, in the top of one of them ; there were 
the chips and clippings from both ears. 

‘‘This settles it,” said Mr. Strong. 

“Settles what, squire,” said Giles. 

“ Why, that the Reverend Jabez Glitters was not 
cropped for calf stealing at Guilford Gourt House, as 
Bill McGlintick reported. If he had been, the sheriff 
would never have let him have the pieces, and he would 
not have wanted them, and still less would he have 
brought them with him, and kept them so carefully as 
he did. 

“ I am very glad,” said Mr. Strong to Mrs. Betsy 


CHATTANOOGA. 


217 


Jones, ‘^that the reputation of your brother is at last 
relieved from the stain that the malice of his enemies 
cast upon it. He died under a cloud which is now dis- 
pelled. No, Madam; it is now certain that your 
brother — the Reverend Jabez Glitters — did not steal — 

Oh ! no he did not steal A calf.’’ 

“Oh, I feel like shoutin’,’' said Mrs. Betsy Jones, as 
she put her handkerchief up to her eyes. “How do 
you feel about it, Mr. Giles 

“Why, ma’m,’' said Giles, “I never believed a word 
of it. Jabez Glitters would no more have stole a calf, 
than he would have robbed old Minna of ‘her apron or 
her bonnet at the time he tuk the child from her. 
Indeed he wouldn’t, squire.” 

Mrs. Betsy Jones clapped her hands, uttered a loud 
scream, and threw her arms up as if she intended to 
put them around Tom Giles’ neck. He speedily ran 
to the other side of the table. 

“Oh, Mr. Giles,” said Mrs. Betsy Jones, “only to 
think that for ten years brother Jabez was bore down 
by scandal, and some of his brothers in the church 
even let on that it might be true, and now — now- — 
to-day, its all cleared up, and the cloud, as Mr. Strong 
says, is expelled. Brother Jabez always said: “The 
memory of th® just shall be blessed.” 

19 


CHAPTEE XXYI. 


Mr. Strong looked eagerly over the vast heap of 
letters and other old papers for something that would 
aid him in stating the facts connected with the present 
narrative, but he found very little indeed ,that related 
to it. The other papers were, some of them, memo- 
randa kept in loose notes of the dilference in price 
between the value of horses exchanged, in each of 
which it seemed that the Reverend Jabez had taken 
good care to make from five to twenty dollars. No 
paper was found in which he paid any thing for the 
difference in value between the horses exchanged. 

One package — an old and very dusty one, indeed, 
was found — which related in part to the matter now 
before the reader. They were greatly obliterated by age 
and the accumulated dust upon them ; but enough could 
be made out from the fragments to show that Stebbins, 
the lame tailor, who was with the Reverend Jabez 
Glitters when the child was captured, very soon after 
his return to the village in which he lived, started a 
story, out of which grew two church trials. One in 
which the Reverend Jabez Glitters was charged with 
immoral conduct, to-wit: Profanity, and the other, in 
which Stebbins w^as charged with defaming the charac- 
ter of the Reverend Jabez Glitters. 

It would seem, so far as it could be made out from 
the fragments of the dusty old papers, that immedi- 
ately after Stebbins went back to the village, an excited 
( 218 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


219 


crowd gathered around him to listen to his thrilling 
narrative of the adventures of the day, and that he 
stated with appropriate and rather violent gestures, 
that ‘^when the little nigger seized the Reverend Jabez 
Glitters’ ear in his teeth, the Reverend Jabez made one 
of the awfullest ugly faces that he (Stebbins) had ever 
seen in all his life ; so ugly, that it frightened him, and 
he started to run even before he heard the yells of the 
pursuing Indians, and that the Reverend Jabez Glitters 
put his right hand up to his ear, and when he found the 
hole bitten in it, he said : [Oh ! the painful duty of the 
historian, that he can not sometimes skip a word which 
be blushes to write, and would gladly omit, if he could 
do so, because he knows that some of his readers will 
be shocked when they read it,] but the Reverend 
Jabez Glitters, — while every feature of his face, his 
chin, and lips, and nose, and cheeks, and eyes were 
distorted and wreathing with the utmost mental an- 
guish, said: ‘‘d n the little nigger.” 

At first his hearers supposed he was jesting, and 
some of them — the irreverent ones — even laughed 
when they heard the statement; but Stebbins repeated 
it the next day, and continued to do so until some 
people believed it. And then, too, Stebbins himself 
was a member of the church ; he had joined it at camp 
meeting a few weeks before the occurrence. 

Some brethren visited the Reverend Jabez, and laid 
the whole matter before him. He said that his heart 
was so full of grief at the loss of the child — so torn 
with anguish on account of the sufferings of Zion, in 
being defrauded, aye robbed, aye cheated out of four 
hundred dollars worth of property, goods and chattels, 
rights, credits and effects, that his own personal and 


220 


CHATTANOOGA. 


private grief and affliction appeared to him to be but 
dust and ashes, and dross and cinders in the scale and 
balance in which he poised and weighed it. 

The brethren, he said, knew him : he had teen their 
preacher in charge on that circuit for four years ; he 
had lived nine years in that settlement, and, as he said 
so, he uncoiled his legs to their full length before him, 
and threw his brown cloak over them and sighed, and 
throwing up both his hands, exclaimed, with a sigh — 
‘^Oh, brethren, what a sin it is to rob and steal from 
Zion!” 

The brethren retired, and filed the charges alluded to 
against Stebbins. 

The trial came on. The interest was intense. 
Other denominations, especially the Calvinists, partook 
of the excitement. More was involved in the charges 
than was apparent at the first sight. The doctrine of 
sanctification was one that had been long and earnestly 
canvassed in the settlement. One party contended 
that man never could live without sin ; that it was as 
essential to his existence as air. The other party con- 
tended that man could get along very well without it. 

‘‘Show me,” said the Calvinist, “a man who lives 
even one day without sinning.” 

The Methodist replied, “ There ’s our beloved brother, 
Jabez Glitters — look at him.” 

The Calvinist looked and was silent. 

Stebbins was not a little troubled to make good his 
charges. The child was too young to testify, and could 
not be found. The lady dressed in black — no one 
knew her. 

He stood alone, with a fearful weight of prejudice 
against him. He thought of the four Indians who 


CHATTANOOGA. 


221 


rushed to the rescue ; and found them. At first they 
refused to commit themselves, by stating the hand they 
had in the matter; but, upon a guarantee that they 
should not be troubled, each came forward, and through 
an interpreter at the camp, gave his written statement 
that he heard the very words from the mouth of the 
Reverend Jabez, that Stebbins charged him with ut- 
tering. 

Stebbins’ eyes brightened, as he heard them testify 
through the interpreter, and saw the confidence with 
which they made their statement. But a friend of the 
Reverend Jabez was there to cross examine them. 

‘‘Do you know one word of English,’’ said the inter- 
preter. “If so, what word?” 

Each shook his head — “No English. Not one 
word.” 

It further appeared that they must have been half a 
mile ofi‘ when the biting occurred. 

Stebbins v\^as in despair. 

An old Indian, who knew a little English, took pity 
on him, and offered to swear to anything that would 
help him out of the scrape. 

But it seemed, on further inquiry, that he was fifty 
miles off when the thing happened. 

Another Indian, who knew Glitters and hated him, 
came forward, and begged for leave to have “ One good 
swear at him.” He, too, it was found, was sitting 
quietly in the camp at the time. His offer was refused, 
and he went grumbling away. 

The trial came on. The Reverend Jabez Glitters 
was triumphantly acquitted, and received the congratu- 
lations of his numerous friends. 

Stebbins was not expelled; but the papers are so 


222 


CHATTANOOGA. 


greatly mutilated, that it is impossible to know exactly 
on what ground his trial was conducted. That it was 
not on the charge of falsehood, enough remains to en- 
able the compiler to state with confidence. But, 
whether it was because he was a tailor — or because he 
was lame — does not distinctly appear. It, however, 
does appear, that after both were acquitted, Stebbins 
was earnestly interrogated as to the distinctness of his 
memory, of the very words uttered by Jabez. At 
first he was confident that he heard them, and could 
not, he said, be mistaken. But, on further inquiry, he 
acknowledged that from the moment the child seized 
the ear of the Reverend Jabez with its teeth till it fell 
to the ground, the visage of Jabez was so frightfully 
distorted, that Stebbins was scared out of his wits, and 
ran as fast as his heels could carry him, to get rid 
of the sight. 

This was enough. How could he hear distinctly when 
he was so frightened? He was, no doubt, honestly — 
mistaken. 

After the greater part of the crowd had gone away, 
an old woman got up from one of the benches in the 
back part of the meeting-house where the trial had taken 
place, and went to a group of four or five preachers 
who were gathered around the Reverend Jabez Glitters, 
and congratulating him on the happy result. 

When are you going to try Brother Glitters on the 
main thing?’' she said, addressing her question to a 
heavy set and very fat preacher who was nearest to 
her. I have come here to hear that trial. 

Why, sister Bulger, the trials are all over. Brother 
Glitters has been most honorably acquitted. The charge 
bore the stamp of gross absurdity on its very face, be- 


CHATTANOOGA. 


223 


cause Brother Glitters, it was admitted, was at the very 
time trying to save his property ; he had it in his arms, 
and was bearing it off ; and to think that he would have 

it d d at that time, is a palpable contradiction. 

Falsehood, sister, always bears its own impress on its 
face.'' 

Yes,’' said sister Bulger, ^Hhat’s all right enough. 
I don’t believe that he ever said them bad words at all, 
and no body ever could persuade me to believe any 
such thing; but the main thing has been looked over.’' 

‘MVhy, sister Bulger, how can you say so? Ah, 
you were sitting too far back, and the house was too 
crowded to enable you to hear well. We have tried 
the whole case. Brother Glitters is honorably acquitted, 
I assure you. We hail his return to the ministry, from 
which he has been temporarily suspended during the 
pendency of these charges, with rapture. We can not 
afford to loose so efficient a laborer in the vineyard at 
this time, when every year a caravan of foreign beasts 
is brought, as a show, into the settlement.” 

‘‘You have not said any thing to him about taking 
away old blind Minna’s child ?” 

The preacher raised both his hands and opened his 
mouth with the utmost astonishment. “ Sister Bulger, 
sister Bulger — what are you talking about? Why, my 
dear sister, that child was his property; and as execu- 
tor, of course, it was his duty to take the stolen article 
from the thieves who had stolen it. Try him — try 
Brother Glitters, and for doing his duty, sister ! What 
in the world are you thinking of!" 

The other preachers, except Glitters, who sat silently 
in a chair, gathered around sister Bulger. 

“Dear me,” said a young, weazen faced minister, 


224 


CHATTANOOGA. 


’W'ith a piping voice, “how untaught some of our mem- 
bership still are ? And what great need there is for 
increased zeal and activity in our labor. There is our 
sister, rather an intelligent woman, who has, perhaps, 
been twenty years a member of our church, and she 
has yet to learn that we Southern Methodists have two 
great doctrines to sustain in the face of a gainsaying 
world, lying in wickedness. The doctrine of sanctifi- 
cation — and. the doctrine of slavery. It is true that 
present circumstances requires us to bestow a little 
more time and attention on the last, than on the first : 
but still we bear up and sustain these great Christian 
doctrines before a scoffing world.” 


CHAPTER XXYII. 


The next day, very early in the morning, Wilson 
came over to the tavern and called Giles out on the 
porch. 

After a short interview with him, Giles returned. - 

‘‘Mr. Strong, my old friend Wilson here says he 
wants to have some private and very particular con- 
versation with me. Can you get along without me for 
half an hour?” 

“ Oh, yes, Giles, I can spare you for that length of 
time ; but let me advise you not to be alarmed again 
about the Union. It never can be dissolved without 
the consent of the people. Thousands of just such men 
as you are must vote on that question before it can be 
done, and you can determine for yourself whether you 
are likely to vote for a dissolution or not ?” 

“ I see that, squire. ‘ I ’m for Union, and nothing 
but Union, now and forever.’” 

Wilson and Giles went to the same place, and sat 
down on the same log on which they had sat a few days 
before, when Giles became so frightened about the 
Union and the American eagle. 

“Neighbor,” said Wilson, “this thing has become 
quite airnest — I’m consarned about it.” 

“ Oh, I tell you, Mr. Wilson, we air in airnest, allers 
was so from the start — both mean to go on with it. 
W"e *re both of full age, Mr. Wilson, and know what we 
are about.” 


( 225 ) 


226 


CHATTANOOGA. 


^‘Well, Mr. Giles, when two people air in airnest 
about such a thing as that, there ’s no stopping them, 
even if anybody had the right to, which, in this case, 
no one has, you know. The thing has gone so fur now, 
that Ihn consarned about it.” 

‘‘Yes, we’ve got more nor half through now. We’ll 
have it all over by next Tuesday night, or next Wed- 
nesday at the furthest. The beginning of such things 
is allers the hardest, ’specially if you have to sit on a 
hard cheer — a split bottom one is the best in all sich 
cases ; but when you get a little way along, it’s mighty 
pleasant, I tell you, Mr. Wilson.” 

“ Mr. Giles, I’m glad to hear you say so. The union 
will be agreeable all round.” 

“ I guess it will — I guess it will. That glorious old 
bird, the ’Merican eagle, must not be plucked for any- 
body. Not a feather must be pulled out of his tail.” 

“No,” said Wilson, “we’ll have a turkey. Will you 
come over to our house next Wednesday ?” 

“If we get through, I will; but I’ll be thar sartain 
next Thursday morning, if nothing happens to hinder 
me. Don’t have no fear about our Union. It ’s a safe 
and a sure thing as long as we live.” 

“Old friend,” said Wilson, taking Giles’ hand, “I’m 
glad to hear you say so. It moves a great burden off 
of my mind. I had my doubts at first; but the thing’s 
gone so far now, and so many people are talking about 
it, that it can’t stop here. Something must be done 
one way or the other soon. It ’s settled now.” 

“Yes,” said Giles, “the thing’s as sure as shootin’; 
but my half hour is most out ; let ’s hurry back to the 
house. The faster we work the sooner we get done, 
you know, neighbor.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


227 


Nothing of especial interest occurred at the tavern 
till the next Wednesday morning, when Giles came into 
Strong’s room greatly excited. 

What ’s the matter, Giles ?” 

‘‘Why, squire, when Mr. Wilson were here a few 
days ago, him and me had a talk. I were talking about 
onr glorious Union, and he were talking about Betsy 
Jones. He says I promised to marry her, and he’s 
gone and killed a shoat and a turkey, and his women 
folks have baked an oven full of pies, and he ’s got the 
licence, and the preacher and lots of people are to be 
thar at ten o’clock to-morrow morning, for to see me 
married to her.” 

“Why, Giles, how could such a mistake have been 
made ? You surely have not been trifling with Mrs. 
Jones’ feelings.” 

“ Squir^ I never said one word to her nor to him 
about it in all my life. I never even squeezed her 
hand, though she ’s squeezed mine half a dozen times — 
it ’s a fact, squire. But what shall I do, squire ? Wil- 
son ’s in the other room a waiting to take me over to 
his house.” 

“Go and tell him, Giles, that I am not quite done 
yet, and you must stay with me to-night. We must 
revise the whole papers now, which will take us till 
midnight.” 

“That’s a fact, squire. I’ll go and tell him softly, 
so as not to hurt the feelings of an old friend, and then 
I ’ll think the matter over to-night, and make up my 
mind what I’d better do.” 

The next morning, at breakfast, the landlady told 
Mr. Strong, as she was pouring out a cup of coffee for 
him, that about ten o’clock the night before, Giles paid 


228 


CHATTANOOGA. 


his bill, took his basket, -with his badger in it on his 
arm, and started on foot to the railroad station, saying 
he was going down to Nashville. She said she was sur- 
prised at his sudden departure, and that he looked as 
if something had happened to him, and walked very 
fast when he went away for an old man. 

“ Did he take that bottle of Shaker linament with 
him, madam?’' said Mr. Strong. 

‘‘No, sir. He looked at it, and asked me if I 
thought he could walk any faster if he used some of 
it? I told him I thought it would do him good.’’ 

About ten o’clock Wilson came over, and learned 
from the landlady that Giles had left the place. 

Wilson rode slowly and sadly away. 

At two o’clock Mrs. Betsy Jones rode up on her 
mule. 

“Mr. Giles is runaway, I’se heard?” 

“Yes, madam,” said Strong, “he left last night. 
He took me completely by surprise. Pie never hinted 
any such purpose.” 

“Oh,” said Betsy Jones, seating herself on a chair, 
and covering her face with her hands, “ this is a world 
of trouble — disappointment and vexation is the lot of 
men and women too, here below. Who would have 
thought that Mr. Giles — such a good man as he is — 
would trifle so with a widder womans’ feelings, and 
break her heart!” 

“Do you owe him any thing, Mr. Strong?” 

“Yes, madam, I owe him two dollars and fifty 
cents, which I am ready to pay when he calls for 
it.” 

“I think you ought to pay it to me; ’cause, you see, 
I’m in a manner his widder, and we’ve had to pay for 


CHATTANOOGA. 


229 


the license and the preacher, besides killing a shoat 
when there was no occasion for it.’* 

The papers you have brought to me are so valuable, 
and throw so much light on some parts of my re- 
searches, that I am willing, madam, to pay you two 
dollars and a half; but, I will also pay Giles what I 
owe him, if ever T meet him again.*’ 

‘‘Well, I’ll take the money,’* said Betsy Jones, as 
she took a quarter eagle, “ and if you do see Mr. Giles, 
tell him I forgive him on condition that he *11 come back 
as soon as possible, and do what he told Brother Wil- 
son he would do ; but, on no other condition will he 
have Betsy Jones* forgiveness — tell him that,^^ 

“I will, madam.’* 

Mr. Strong put the papers, and the old suuff box 
and its contents back into the keg ; helped Mrs. Jones 
on her mule, and put the keg on the animal’s neck 
before her. She leaned over it, and rode away hum- 
ming a hymn tune, and crying, “ She said she always 
did so when she thought of Brother Jabez; he was so 
good.” 




CHAPTEE XXVIII. 


About a week after the hunt, one of Rashleigh's 
servants informed him that a man — a plain, sober, 
honest looking man, he said, was in the ’all, and wanted 
to see him. He was told to shew the person into Mr. 
Rashleigh’s room. 

‘"My name,” said the man, “is Thomas Card. I live 
in the neighboring village, and am a carpenter. I want 
some advice about a matter that troubles me. I have 
heard that you are a well educated gentleman, and 
have ventured to call.” 

“I shall be happy to be of service to you, Mr. Card,” 
said Rashleigh. 

“ The matter has grown out of the hunt which took 
place last week, of which, no doubt, you have heard, as 
it is well known everywhere.” 

“No, sir. I have not heard a word of it; but,” he 
added, “I have not been off my plantation for two 
months, so that however notorious the atlair may be, I 
hav^had no opportunity to hear of it.” 

Card then gave a full narrative of the capture of 
Minna’s child, and added, “I am a class-leader in the 
church, and the woman, Minna, is a member of my class. 
I always respected her, and believe that as far as she 
knows, she is a Christian. Charges are preferred 
against her in the church, or, I should say, a single 
charge. She is accused of stealing the child — that is, 
Mr. Clitter’s property; and as stealing is a sin, a viola- 
( 230 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


231 


tion of the commandment, she will be expelled, if she 
is found guilty. I don’t feel quite right about the 
thing. It may be that I am biased in her favor, and 
that my compassion is having undue influence over my 
judgment, but I have not yet been able to see that she 
is wrong. We have already had one meeting on the 
subject, and discussed it. Several of the membership 
are on my side. The majority are against me. I 
stated my views to that meeting, and Brother Glitters, 
that is, one of our preachers, said to me, ‘Is not the 
child my property by the laws of the State, and by the 
Constitution of the State, and by the customs of the 
country, and by the laws of the United States, and by 
the Constitution of the United States?’ And after a 
moments study, I said, ‘Yes; I suppose so, Brother 
Glitters.’ And then he asked me what right has that 
woman to steal one piece of property more than another 
piece of property ? If she stole a pig or a horse it 
would be sin, and is it not a greater and more heinous 
and horrible sin for her to steal a child, as that child is 
of more, and greater worth and value than many pigs 
and horses, and even than a whole drove of horned 
cattle ? I could not answer him ; but I think there 
must be something wrong in his reasoning. I have not 
been able to find the error, and will be glad if you will 
aid me.^’ 

“You erred,” said Rashleigh, “in admitting that the 
child is property hy the laws of the State.” 

“How so?” said Card. “I never heard any man 
doubt that before.” 

“Slaveholding is SIN. And all the statues and con- 
stitutions that man may pile — one upon another — can 
not make it any man’s duty to sin against God. 


232 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Every attempt by legislation or otherwise^ to make sin 
law, is void, and leaves man’s relations to his maker 
and to his fellow man, precisely as they stood before 
such legislation was made or attempted. God is the 
owner of this world, and its King, and all the attempts 
of men, in all nations, and in every age, by legislation 
or otherwise, to repeal any of His laws, are but folly. 
Men might as well attempt, by legislation, to declare 
that the sun shall not shine, or the wind blow, as to 
attempt to change any other law of Nature and of 
God. 

^‘The laws of God — all his laws, whether natural or 
revealed — are eternal ; and the combined legislation of 
the whole world, can not suspend their operation for a 
moment. The Ten Commandments are in full force — 
although, as to half of them — loving God — obedience to 
parents — respecting the Sabbath — covetousness — there 
is little or no legislation of man. 

“ If all the laws of this State to punish men for mur- 
der were repealed to-morrow, the moral character of 
the act would be the same that it is to-day — as Cain 
murdered his brother before there was any human 
legislation to punish the crime.” 

‘‘ I see that very clearly,” said Mr. Card. 

‘‘ Then you also see that murder, theft, piracy, and 
such sins are intrinsically wrong, whether human laws 
sanction or condemn them.” 

“I do, sir.’^ 

‘‘Man’s rights,” continued Rashleigh, “are but the 
correlative of his duties. Man’s duties are placed upon' 
him by God. His duty to love God, to worship Sim^ 
to obey Him, to love his .neighbor as himself — all are 
laid upon him by the hand of his Creator. And I sup- 


CHATTANOOGA. 


233 


pose that in this country there are but few, if any 
persons, who will admit thS.t human legislation can 
interfere with these duties. That question has been 
settled for ages, ^ 

‘‘But, if that be admitted, the result that all laws 
tending even to sustain slaveholding are also void, 
follows of course ; for the right is as certain as the 
DUTY. Slaveholding then is but a system of Atheism — 
not that open Atheism which denies the existence of 
God — but the more covert and subtle Atheism, which, 
while it admits his existence, denies his authority as 
legislator over his creatures. 

“All the arguments of your church — that prove the 
1 free agency of man — of which it has furnished so many 
I and of such great value to the world — also prove that 
slavehold'ng is sin. For if God Himself will not inter- 
fere with man’s free agency, still less has he confered 
upon one set of men the power to do so over other men. 
As slaveholding is a sin, the child in question is not the 
property of Mr. Glitters. The statutes which attempt 
to confer it upon Mr. Glitters, are mere nullities.” 
j “Your reasoning seems to me correct, sir; but it 
^ would give offense, if I were to rely upon it. Gan no 
other course of argument be adopted which will reach 
the same results ?” 

f “No. If the statues and constitutions to which 
the reverend gentleman refers — are laws, it is the duty 
of the parents of the child, as well as all other persons, 
to obey them — cheerfully to obey them. If that child 
is property, its parents have no right to take it from its 
owner. But it is not property, with the same absolute 
I certainty that God is the Creator and King of this 
world.” 


20 


234 


CHATTANOOGA. 


tnank you, Mr. Rashleigh, for your views,"' said 
Card, rising to depart. ‘^Few people, however, even 
in the free states, from one of which I came a few 
years ago, concur with you in opinion. There the 
general opinion of the people seems to be that slave- 
holding is in some sense wrong, and should be restrained 
within its present limits ; but that no person should in- 
terfere with it in the states in which it is establishhd 
by law."" 

‘‘I know, Mr. Card, that such are the popular notions 
of the day, but they are strangely inconsistent. If it 
is wrong, it is so every where. If it is right, it is so 
in all places and in all ages. No man should attempt 
to disturb slavery if it is right, nor to sustain it if it is 
wrong. Mr. Clitters has been guilty of two great 
sins. The first in robbing those people of their owm 
child. The second in sustaining, by his example and in- 
fluence, the acts of the legislature, made to support 
slavery, and the last act, in my very humble opinion, 
a greater sin even than the first."' 

‘‘It would seem so,'" said Mr. Card. 


CHAPTEK XXIX. 


Very soon after the marriage of Grey Eagle and 
Huldah, it became proper that he should return to his 
duties as chief of his tribe. At first he left Huldah 
with his mother, and visited her from time to time; 
blit he thought that under her disguise, as an Indian 
girl, she could not be discovered, and brought her to his 
own home. He was mistaken. Many peeple, both 
black and white, visited the camp, and it was rumored 
in the neighborhood, that the beautiful bride of the 
I Indian chief was no other person than the fugitive slave 
' of Norton. 

Huldah was imprudent. In spite of the warnings of 
Grey Eagle, she exposed herself to observation at times, 
and to persons where detection and consequent recap- 
, ture seemed to be almost certain. She insisted upon 
going with her husband to the chase, riding her black 
i pony, and could not be confined in the cabin when the 
dances and other sports of the tribe were going on. 

It was said that an expedition had been set on foot 
^ by Norton to take her. Old Isham, under the pretence 
of hunting for roots, visited the camp, and told Grey 
Eagle of the danger. Huldah was immediately sent to 
his mother’s home, vfhere, it w^as supposed, she would 
be well concealed and safe. While she was there. 
Grey Eagle, through the intervention of Rashleigh, 
who took a lively interest in his welfare, made an effort 
to purchase her from Norton. 


( 235 ) 


236 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Mr. Rashleigh’s polite offer to buy her, without 
namiug Grey Eagle as his principal, which would have 
compromised his friend, was repulsed not without rude- 
ness on the part of Norton. 

I will not sell her to any person, nor for any price. 
She is my property,’’ said Norton, ‘‘and living or dead 
I will have her, if I can find her. I ’ll make an exam- 
ple of her, so as to show my slaves that it is useless for 
any of them to run away. Their fate will only be worse 
when I get them back.” 

“I think, sir,” said Rashleigh, “that you will be 
happier if you set her free.” 

“That, sir,” said Norton, with increased rudeness, 
“is none of your business.” 

“You are mistaken,” said Eashleigh, “it is my busi- 
ness, if I see you rushing toward a precipice, over 
which you may blindly fall and be killed — to shout 
aloud and warn you of your danger. If I see you pur- 
suing a course which will lead to ruin, it is my right to 
advise you of it. I have no right to look, without sym- 
pathy, upon the misfortunes of others, and still less to 
be silent when, perhaps, a word may avert great cala- 
mities. Silence is a sin when a word may save a man 
from ruin.” 

“I thank you,” said Norton, “for your gratuitous 
advice, and will profit by it when it is needed.” 

They parted. Rashleigh returned to his home, filled 
with sorrow because he had failed in his mission. Nor- 
ton was angry, because his neighbor, as he said, had 
ventured to interfere with his domestic affairs. 

Rashleigh found Grey Eagle awaiting him on his 
return, and told him the result of his interview with 
Norton. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


237 


am going/’ he said, ‘Ho Europe in a few days. 
Some of my servants are greatly dissatisfied with Ame- 
rica, and wish to return to England. I will accompany 
them. I have other business there that needs my per- 
sonal attention, and wish to visit my relations and 
friends. Come with me. You and your bride will be 
safe as soon as you land in England. Not one of 
the governments in Europe will aid in her recapture, 
or consent even, while she is but a sojourner in their 
dominions, to have her reduced to slavery. You have 
means to travel, and it will be a source of happiness to 
you for the residue of your life.” 

“ Thank you,” said Grrey Eagle, “ I will let you know 
in a few days whether we will go with you or not.” 

After consulting with Corliss and Huldah, Grey 
Eagle again visited Rashleigh at the end of three days, 
and agreed to accompany him. 

They met at New York. Grey Eagle was accompa- 
nied by Huldah and her father. Rashleigh by four of 
his servants, who gladly bade adieu to America. 

They landed in England, and after having leisurely 
seen in England as much as they could see in so short 
a time as six months, they went over, accompanied by 
Rashleigh, to Paris. Here he left them, and returned 
to his plantation in Tennessee, which he reached after 
an absence of about a year. Grey Eagle and his party 
went on to Rome. 

They remained in Europe four years; and while they 
•were there, they visited all the objects that generally 
interest travelers. 

Our readers will not suppose that they were clothed 
in Indian costume. Grey Eagle had been educated at 
a New England college, and had seen much of the soci- 


238 


CHi^TTANOOGA. 


ety of intelligent people. His letters of introduction 
from Rashleigh, gave him and his party access to the 
most intelligent persons in the countries they visited. 
None knew that Huldah was a slave. None cared for 
her complexion, other than to admire it. 

Corliss explained to his daughter all that needed ex- 
planation to her. She remembered now, with vivid 
distinctness, the objects of which she had read, while 
she was with Mrs. Mills. 

Her mind expanded, and filled as it enlarged. She 
caught, with quickness, the tone of the society in which 
she moved, and her rude manners softened and refined. 
She seemed a new being. Her wild impulses were 
hushed into peace as she gazed on the wonders of art 
and genius which daily met her view. 

Another cause too contributed not a little to this 
great change of character. Her little son nestled in 
her arms, and met her gaze, filled with all the tender- 
ness of a young mother’s love. 

The time came at last when they turned their reluc- 
tant and unwearied feet from the ‘‘Eternal City,’^ and 
left the land of the vine and the olive to come to 
America. 

The voyage was short and pleasant to all others but 
Huldah. As the vessel sailed up to the city of Boston, 
and Huldah saw each moment, with greater distinctness, 
the stars and the stripes floating at the mast heads of 
a hundred ships, she turned pale and trembled. “I 
am a woman,” she said, “ and free wherever I have been, 
and now the first moment I shall retouch the land of 
my fathers — ‘my own, my native land^ — I will be but 
a fugitive slave.” 

They returned to the old encampment in Tennessee, 


CHATTANOOGi\. 


239 


and were cordially invited by Mr. Rashleigh to visit him. 
They did so, and Huldah and Grey Eagle became his 
guests for a few days, and then resumed their Indian 
costume, and returned to their tribe. 

It was but a few days after her return, while Huldah 
was riding out on her favorite pony, she heard the 
screams of Minna, and was informed, by an Indian, of 
the capture of the child. In a moment — without wait- 
ing for reflection — she led in the pursuit, and urged 
someyounglndians on, until she overtook the Reverend 
Jabez Glitters, and rescued the child. 

It was done so quickly, that Jabez had no time to 
observe her. He had never seen her before, and could 
give no accurate discription of her person. All that 
he could say, was that she was a white lady, and was 
quite young, and small, and delicate in her appearance 
and figure ; that she was dressed in black, and rode a 
small, black pony ; that she had a wicked look, and 
her eyes glared and blazed upon him as the eyes of a 
tigress, and that she looked so very wicked, that he 
could think of nothing but hell, for half an hour after 
he saw her. 


CHAPTEK XXX. 

We must now invite the attention of our readers to 
Norton and his family. 

Mrs. Mills still lounged on the old settee, and read 
and slept as good naturedly as ever. Norton attended 
to the business of his plantation, not, however, without 
a restless wish to become a member of the State legis- 
lature, and to play his part in public life. The slaves 
toiled on in sunshine and in rain, as they had toiled all 
their lives. 

One day a negro boy ran into the room exclaiming: 

Mrs. Mills, a carriage is coming up to the house and 
two ladies in it, and Master Ned is riding on his boss 
by the side on it, and talking to the ladies, and whip- 
ping his boss to keep close up to the carriage.’" 

‘‘Ah,” said Mrs. Mills, rising from the old settee, 
“Mr. Norton’s aunt and cousin are coming at last. I 
have been looking for them for a week;” and the good 
lady went to the door to meet them. 

The aunt, Mrs. Kite, was nearly six feet high. Her 
cheek bones were the most remarkable part of her face. 
They stood out in great knots by the side of her small, 
grey eyes. The daughter. Miss Mary Kite, was- about 
sixteen years of age, a chubby girl, with a round, full 
face, and small features. The ladies waited at the car- 
riage door, until a pile of band-boxes, and trunks, and 
bundles, was taken out, and then Mrs. Kite took Nor- 
ton’s arm, and went into the house. 

( 240 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


241 


I Oh, Edward/’ she exclaimed, as she seated herself 
I in a rocking chair, do, for the Lord’s sake, get me 
some camphire or I shall expire in two minutes, I am 
I so greatly fatigued. The miserable roads you have in 
, this western country, have nearly extinguished what 
' little life there is in me.” 

A bottle of camphor was brought, and Mrs. Kite held 
it to her nose for a minute, and then placing it on her 
lap, she leaned her head against the back of the chair. 

This, she said, is exhilerating and refreshing to my 
, almost exhausted condition.” 

‘^Wait a bit, aunt,’’ said Norton, “and Mrs. Mills 
will bring you some of her excellent current wine.” 

“Do, Edward, have it brought soon or I shall ex- 
pire,” and she again shut her eyes, and leaned her head 
against the back of the chair. “The wretched and 
abominable roads have fatigued and almost annihilated 
me. I will expire if I am not immediately relieved 
from the sensations that cause my heart to palpitate as 
if it would burst.” 

A boy brought a decanter of wine, and Mrs. Kite 
drank olf a tumbler full. “I am greatly relieved now, 
Edward. Vitality is returning to my almost exhausted 
frame. After an hours rest, I opinionate I shall be 
reanimated, and re-established in health, and regener- 
ated and refreshed.” 

“You will feel very differently then, aunt,” said Nor- 
ton, with great respect. 

“Yes, Edward, yes. Tired nature’s sweet restorer, 
a little balmy sleep, will call back my half-extinguished 
vitality, and regenerate me as Pope says. But conduct 
me to my apartment, if you please, Edward, and let my 
exhausted body have rest, and refreshment, and re- 
pose.” 


1 


242 


CHATTANOOGA, 


Mrs. Mills conducted the ladies to their room for 
^‘rest, refreshment, and repose.’’ 

In an hour Miss Mary Kite came out of her room. 

Couthin, Edward, what a delightful plathe you have 
here. Oh ! it must be tho thweet to wander alone in 
the wild woods, and hear the little birdthes thing on 
evry branth, and feel the balmy thouth wind fanning 
your theeks, and to see the little lambs skipping ore 
flowery meads, and cropping the grass by the rivers 
brink, and to hear the turtle dove cooing. I am sure I 
shall die with pleasure in less than a week.’’ 

Cousin Mary, I hope you will enjoy yourself very 
much while you are here.” 

Oh, it ith the most delightful plath that the fond 
imagination of froward youthful fancy can conthieve of 
‘‘Little boy,” said she, speaking to a negro boy about 
seven years old, whose only dress was a tow shirt and 
pants, the latter torn in great holes at both knees, 
“ run out and bring me a bunch of rothes with the dew 
on. 

“Can’t do it. Miss,” said Jake; “roses all dun 
gone, long ago.” 

“Bring me some flowers.” 

“They ain’t no flowers. Miss, only jimpson-weeds.” 

“Oh, dear,” said Miss Mary, fanning herself, “how 
rural, and sweeth, and delightful this plath is, it re- 
minds me of the poets, Arcadia.” 

“ That thar place jines this. Miss. Mr. Rashleigh 
lives thar.” 

Miss Mary screamed with delight. “Only think,” 
she said, “I’ve seen Arcadia, which the poets write 
about, and now my cheeks are fanned with the balmy 
breezes that blow over its beds of thyme, and meads of 
flowers.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


243 


I 

! 

They ain’t got no beds of time over thar, Miss/’ 

! said Jake, ‘‘but the ’re got a big one of inions. ” 

“ Boy/' said Miss Mary, “ show me the place where 
I the turtle doves do build their nesths.” 

“Yes, Miss,” said Jake, stooping down and pointing 
with his finger to an object which could be seen through 
a window, “ do you see that crab-apple tree down thar 
by the boss pond ? A turtle dove made a nest thar 
last spring, but a chicken hawk cotch it and teared it 
' all to flinders. 

“ Oh, cruel hawk ! ” said Miss Mary. “ Cousin Ed- 
ward, do you know Harriet Gilpin ? She was a school 
mate of mine at Bethlehem, and is such a thweet girl. 
They moved from Virginia out to Tennessee, and may 
live some where in this part of the state!” 

“I do know her. Mrs. Gilpin lives quite near us; 
she has a daughter, Harriet, who is about your age. 
Mrs. Gilpin’s father is a Mr. Brandon.” 

“ The very thame,” said Miss Mary. Oh, I shall 
thie with rapture. Let me fly to her on the wings of a 
j thove, and press her to my enraptured heart. I shall 
' die with delight when I thee the thweet girl.” 

“ I will send a servant to her with a note, if you ’ 
will write one, and she will probably call on you to- 
morrow.” 

“ Oh, thear, I shall thream of the thear girl all night. 

I shall thie with rapture when I embrace her.” 

Mrs. Kite now joined them. She had on a cap with 
I a large bow of broad red ribbons on one side, and another 
bow of yellow ribbons on the other. 

“ I hope, aunt, that you have got some rest and are 
better.” 

“ Yes, Edward, that glass of invigorating wine, and 


244 


CHATTANOOGA. 


tlie invigorating effects of a balmy slumber of an hour, 
have re-established my almost exhausted system, and I 
am now regenerated and refreshed/’ 

‘^Your looks, aunt, informed me of that as soon as 
you came out of your room/' 

Oh, you flattersome individual ! Do not attempt to 
tantalize me by any such fulsome epithets. Above all 
things in this mundane world, Edward, I do not like an 
ingenuousness.” 

Aunt, you will, I hope, find me frank hearted and 
open as the day. I fear only that I shall offend you 
by my frankness/’ 

Never fear, Edward, I shall die unless you are the 
soul of candor/' 

“ Oh, couthin Edward ! ” said Miss Mary, handing him 
a note which she had written to Harriet Gilpin, do 
my dear couthin, thend this off on the wings of the 
wind; let your messenger fly with it to my dear Hatty. 
I shall thie with impatience until he returns.” 

Here, Jake,'’ said Norton, ‘Hake this note and 
carry it over to Brandons, and give it to the young 
lady, thar.'’ 

“ Master, may I ride ? The old boss is in the field, a 
doin’ nothin' but eatin' grass.’' 

“Yes, catch him and get a sheepskin for a saddle 
and be back quickly.” 

“Yes, Massa.'' 

In three hours Jake made his appearance on the 
porch, and Miss Mary sprang to meet him. “ Oh, give 
me the answer to the letter from my thear Hatty.’' 

“ I ain 't done gone thar yet, Miss, I jist cotch the 
boss an cum for the sheepskin to ride on. I be back 
mighty soon.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


245 


^‘Fly, fly/' said Mary, on the wings of the wind, you 
are the messenger of love, to>day, Jake.” 

‘‘ Yes, Miss, I bin to mill this mornin’ and tuk a 
grist of corn, and now I’ll tote your letter too quick.” 

After an absence of six hours, Jake came back with 
a note from Harriet Gilpin, in which she stated that 
she was delighted to hear that her friend was so near 
to her, and that her mother and herself would call 
early the next day. 

Miss Mary read the note, and exclaimed, ‘‘ Oh, thear 
the rapture, only to think that I shall see my thear, 
thear Hatty to-morrow. It ’s a thream of bliss.” 

Early the next day, Harriet and her mother came to 
Norton’s while Norton was absent. They had never 
seen Mrs. Kite, and were introduced to her by Miss 
Mary. 

‘‘ I am perfectly enraptured with the wilderness,” 
said Mrs. Kite. My dear Madam, how glad I am that 
I made this excursion ; it is an indisputable verity that 
the high roads w^e have traversed in our tedious jour- 
ney are in a state of such dilapidation that it is excru- 
ciatingly tormenting to traverse them, but we have now 
reached our destination, and have reason to rejoice at 
the termination of our wayfaring. We will sojourn 
here a few weeks and then retrogade home. 

The roads here are quite bad,” said Mrs. Gilpin. 
^^I am sorry to hear that your stay among us will be 
so short. 

‘^Oli!” said Mrs. Kite, “business. Madam, business 
of tremenjous importance, that can neither be deferred 
nor postponed, make it imperatively necessary that my 
sojourning here shall be as brief as possible.” 

The young ladies met and embraced each other. 


246 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Miss Mary said, Oh, my thear Hatty ! I feel as if I 
should thie with rapture. It has been three whole 
years since we parted, and I have had but four letters 
from you in all that time.’’ 

would have written oftener, but we were getting* 
ready to move, and when we did move, we had a long 
journey here, and some delay in getting settled. I 
will be more punctual hereafter.” 

“ Oh, my thear Hatty ! how charming is this wilder- 
ness ! What sweet repose may our souls find in wander- 
ing by the purling streams that dash their bright 
waters over moth-covered rocks, lying in the shade 
of overspreading sycamore trees, and as we gaze at 
the white sea-gulls skimming the smooth face of the 
plathid water, and while we wander by moonlight over 
banks covered with cowslips and pansies and theet 
thented thyme. It is the happy valley of Rasselas, 
the abode of peath and contentment. I shall thie 
with rapture or live only in a thream of extatic bliss.” 

‘‘ It is a beautiful country,” said Miss Hatty, “ and 
will, I have no doubt, be much more so when it shall 
be filled with people.” 

Oh, how you do shock me ! ” said Miss Mary, that 
will utterly ruin it. It is the wilderness, the wild, 
wild wilderness in which my soul delights. The foot 
prints of man will destroy the rich and varied garni- 
ture which nature has flung with a lavith hand over 
her works, and in which she loves to dithplay her most 
wondrous tharms.” 

My thear, thear Hatty, it is the lonely wilderness 
in which my soul bathes itself in an ocean of blith. I 
want to see the wild bird leaping over the green twigs, 
and to hear the thrush and the nightingale sing at 
( 230 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


247 


midniglit amid wild rose bushes, while the crescent 
moon is brightly shining above them in the clear blue 
sky and gentle breethes theal thofly over the glad 
earth and angels thing their evening thongs over the 
grave of some departed thaint. My thoul longs for 
blith as the heart panteth after the water brooks.^’ 

‘‘We have neither nightingales, nor thrushes, nor 
cowslips here, my dear Mary, but we have mocking- 
birds and flowers perhaps as beautiful as those of which 
we have read in English books. Our happiness de- 
pends chiefly on ourselves, and we can, if we will, be 
happy in almost all places, and under all circumstances. 
Sometimes, indeed, we can not control our destiny, and 
must submit to misfortunes, when it is God’s will that 
we shall suffer.’’ 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


Mrs. Kite ordered her carriage. 

‘‘Where shall I drive, madam,’’ said the servant, 

“ I have a particular locality in contemplation, Ned. 
Take me by the most frequented thoroughfare to one 
Tom Giles.^’ 

“Stop here,” said Mrs. Kite, “I will enter that habi- 
tation and see how the rustics in this country live. Who 
lives here, Ned.” 

“ I Ve been told, madam, it ’s the man they call Tom 
Giles.” 

The lady got out of the carriage, and walked with a 
slow and stately pace, her silk dress rustling as she 
did so, to the cabin. A flock of white haired urchins 
ran into the cabin as she approached, and all rushed 
out together, nearly knocking her down, as she came to 
the door. 

“ Good morning, Mrs. Giles. I thought I would in- 
vigorate my system by athletic exercise this morning, 
and have ventured, during my excursion, to call and 
pay my respects to you. I hope I find you in good 
health, madam.” 

“Yes, ma’m, mighty well — ’ 
in my back. 

“ Take the chair, ma’m.” 

Mrs. Kite took a seat. “ I am sorry to be informed 
of your great aflaiiction, Mrs. Giles. You find this loca- 
^ 248 ) 


cept^ thunderin’ pain 


CHATTANOOGA. 249 

lity salubrious and productive of longevity — do you 
not?’’ 

‘‘ Yes, ma’m. It ’s a fine place to raise sweet taters 
and water-melons ; most too near the mountain though 
for cotton to grow good.” 

‘‘Mrs. Giles, who inhabits that magnificent mansion 
that I observed on the eminence as my carriage tra- 
versed the road from Mr. Norton’s to this locality.” 

Mrs. Giles stared at her. “I don’t rightly know 
what you mean, ma’m. I reckon you want to know 
who lives in the first house back here a piece ?” 

“ Yes, Mrs. Giles. That is what I desire.” 

“Mr. Rashleigh, an Englishman, lives thar, ma’m. 
The people hereabouts don’t like him. He’s a ristocrat, 
and has been away and jist come back, and keeps his- 
self mighty close at home, ma’m.” 

“You observed, Mrs. Giles, that Mr. Rashleigh sel- 
dom ventures to present himself to public observa- 
tion.” 

“No, ma’m. I never heard of his bein’ a candidate 
for the legislature. Thar’s no use in it, for nobody 
would vote for him.” 

“Is Mr. Rashleigh accessible to visitors, Mrs. Giles?” 

“He ’s mighty perlite when people goes to his house, 
but he ain’t sociable at all.” 

“I am delighted,” said Mrs. Kite, rising, “with your 
situation, and the wonderful fertility of the soil around 
your place of abode.” 

“Yes, ma’m, the patch of corn, and lima beans, and 
sun-flowers that you are a looking at, is mighty thrifty 
indeed. I tended ’em myself.” 

“ You deserve great credit for your assidooity, Mrs. 
Giles.” 


250 


CHATTANOOGA. 


^‘No, ma'm. We did not do it with a jack-ass — we 
tuk a mule. Martin Luther rid the mule, and John 
Calvin, he followed arter, and unkivered the corn, and 
I plowed.’’ 

Mrs. Kite was standing in the door of the cabin. 
Four little Giles’ were standing at a short distance off, 
staring her in the face. Martin Luther and John Cal- 
vin were down in the road by the carriage, looking at 
it, and talking to Ned, the driver. 

‘‘Mrs. Giles, I wish to have some private conversa- 
tion with you, if I can have it without intrusion or ob- 
servation.” 

“Ma’m?” 

“Mrs. Giles, I wish to converse with you unob- 
served.” 

“Yes, ma’m. Let ’s go behind the house.” 

They started, and the little Giles’ trooped after them, 
till Polly seized a limb of a tree, covered with brush, 
and after a hot chase, routed the group. They ran 
to the carriage, and climbed up on the wheels. 

“ Mrs. Giles, I have a matter in hand that requires 
my diligent attention, and with which I must proceed 
with great circumspection.” 

Polly seemed greatly frightened, and was disposed 
to run. 

“ You can help me, Mrs. Giles, and if you will, I will 
reward you for your labor. I will give you five dollars 
if you will do it.” 

Polly understood this speech readily enough. “I’ll 
do what I ken for you, ma’m. What is it you want of 
me?” 

“My nephew, Mr. Edward Norton, with whom I 
conjecture you are acquainted?” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


251 


“Oh, yes, ma’m. I knows him like a hook. We’s 
been livin’ close by him for more nor five years.^’ 

“Mr. Norton then had a slave girl named Huldah. 
Have you ever seen her?’^ 

“ No, ma’m. I ’ve often heard of her, but she run 
away afore I got to see her.” 

“ Well, we believe that girl is the wife of Grey Eagle, 
but are not yet quite sure of it. I wish you to take a 
box of ribbonds to the camp to sell.’^ 

“Ain’t got no ribbins, ma’m, only one old dirty white 
one on my go-to-meeting bonnet.” 

“I will furnish them to you; they are in a box in 
the carriage. Take them to the camp, and exhibit them 
to Grey Eagle’s wfife. Don’t let her place the box on 
a stand or table, but get her to stoop down to look at 
them in the basket, and as she does so, observe, Mrs. 
Giles, whether there is a crescent shaped scar on the 
bone of her right cheek, about half an inch long, and a 
straight mark near her left ear on her left cheek.” 

“ Do you mean like water-melons, ma^m 

“No, no, Mrs. Giles. I mean a little mark like the 
new moon in shape.” 

“Yes, ma’m. I’ll go thar to-day.” 

Mrs. Kite delivered the box of ribbands to Polly, and 
drove back to Nortons. 

“How rejoiced I am, Mrs. Mills, that you remember 
with such vivid 'distinctness, the size and shape of the 
marks made by Abe in his fight with that girl, Huldah. 
I believe your remarkable memory will be the means of 
enabling cousin Edward to recapture her.” 

“ I have good reason to remember them well, Mrs. 
Kite, for the wounds made by the scratches from Abe’s 
fingers infiamed, and were near a week in healing, and 
I put some cort-plaster on them.” 


252 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Edward has made two or three unsuccessful eflForts 
to recapture that girl, and all of them have been unsuc- 
cessful, because he has not the tact of woman added to 
the energy of man. I will show him that women make 
as good generals as men. He has promised to bestow 
on me the girl’s child as a present, if I shall devise a 
scheme by which the girl and child may be retaken, 
and I will do it.” 

‘‘I hope you may,” said Mrs. Mills, ‘^for she’s a 
good servant — a little wild though ; but with all her 
faults, a good servant, and I want her to read to me. 
The child, of course, would only be in my way.” 

In the evening Mrs. Polly Giles came over to Nor- 
ton’s. 

What success did you meet with in your enterprise 
to-day, Mrs. Giles.” 

Oh ! I didn’t get no prize, but I sold her two dol- 
lars worth of ribbins, and here ’s the money she gin 
me.” 

‘‘Did you follow my instructions, Mrs. Giles.” 

“Yes, ma’m. I see her face. It were close to 
mine, and she’s got that very half cent scar right 
whar you said it were, and the tother scar too, and a 
beautiful little boy, all dressed up as nice as a king.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Giles; here ’s a five dollar bill.” 

“Air you sure it’s good, ma’m ?” 

“ Oh ! yes, Mrs. Giles, it ’s current money.” 

“No, ma’m,” said Polly. “I aint so easy to be tuk 
in as you think for. This ain’t curren’ money at all. 
Look here (holding the bill close to a candle at the 
table) — jist look here.” 

Mrs. Kite looked at the bill. 

“ For all I can’t read I knows curren’ money as well 
as any body. .Here’s a plow, and thar’s a wheat sheaf, 


CHATTANOOOA. 


253 


but there ain’t no curren bush on it. That ’ar bush by 
the plow may be a goosberry one, but it ’s no curren 
bush. Please give me another — a curren’ one. This 
ain’t good.” 

Norton looked at the bill. Why, Mrs. Giles, this 
bill is as good as wheat. Don’t you see the wheat 
sheaf thar ?” 

“Yes, sir. Well, if it’s as good as all that. I’ll 
take it. 

“Thank you, ma’m. I’ll go agin when ever you 
want me to.” 


CHAPTEK XXXII. 


The time was drawing near when the good people 
of the county in which Norton lived were to elect their 
representative in the state legislature. Edward Norton 
was announced as a candidate, and many of his neigh- 
bors warmly favored his pretensions. He was so kind, 
so social, so every thing that a legislator should be, 
that few persons could be named who were half so 
well qualified for the place. 

But still the ‘‘ Star in the West,’' the newspaper 
published in the county, had not declared itself in his 
favor. The editor indeed published the names of the 
several candidates, but was discreetly silent on the sub- 
ject of his preference.. Norton had long eagerly looked 
forward to the place as the goal of his ambition, and 
determined to spare neither pains nor expense to ac- 
complish his object. 

He visited the place where the editor lived, and found 
him, Jeptha Jothram, Esquire, a gentleman who had a 
very red face, and very dirty hands. He was a little 
tipsy when Norton entered, and was leaning back in 
his chair with his feet on a table before him, and 
smoking a bad cigar. 

^‘Ah! old fellow!'’ said he as he held out two fingers 
of his left hand to Norton, ‘‘I am glad to see you. 
What are the signs in the political horizon in the east- 
ern part of the county ? Are you all ready to meet 
this great crisis ? The country, I assure you, is trem- 
( 254 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


255 


bling on the very brink of eternal ruin, and unless we 
unite — ^unless we are united, sir, heart and soul, as one 
man, and bury all our past dilSerences, and lay aside 
all our bickerings, that great rascal. Col. John Keddich, 
will be elected over our heads, and the state will be 
eternally ruined, sir.’^ 

The whole country, Mr. Norton, is looking on this 
great contest with intense interest. I had a letter only 
yesterday from Col. Stunt, United States Senator, who 
urged me to do my duty, and my whole duty, in this 
great contest. I got another, only this morning, from 
the honorable James Littlejohn, member of Congress, 
from North Carolina, informing me that the administra- 
tion takes a profound interest in this great contest, and 
wishes all our friends to unite and be at the polls/ 
Are you all ready in your part of the county? It 
is our strong hold — if you fail — if you fail now — defeat 
is certain. Our enemies — the enemies, I should say, 
of republican government — are not asleep. They are 
always wide awake and vigilant.’’ 

“We intend to do our duty, Mr. Jothram, at the 
coming election. We know very well how vitally im- 
portant the questions are on which we, the people, have 
now to vote. We will be on hand and do our whole 
duty. We have never been found wanting.” 

“Right, sir, very right, sir,” said Mr. Jeptha Joth- 
ram, taking his cigar from his mouth: “your neigh- 
borhood is our tenth legion.” 

“You know,” said Norton, “that some of my neigh- 
bors have insisted on my becoming a candidate for 
the nomination.” 

“My dear sir,” said Jeptha Jothram, Esquire, “no 
man on earth doubts your high qualifications for the 


256 


CHATTANOOGA. 


office. We will be delighted to support you next year 
— next year, sir. Mr. Norton, next year the coast 
will be clear, and all your political friends will rally 
as one man to your support. But this year, sir, — this 
year, the danger of defeat is so imminent and the 
crisis so great, that we must all lay aside our indi- 
vidual preferences, and rally around the standard, no 
matter who may be bearer of that standard. Patriot- 
ism demands this great sacrifice. 

Our country — our whole country is looking upon 
us. The President and all his cabinet — all the clerks 
in Washington will stand on tip-toe waiting eagerly for 
the returns from this election, as soon as it shall be 
over. One vote — one vote, sir, may at this election 
determine the result. This is no time, sir, to indulge 
in individual preferences.’’ 

You may rely on us, Mr. Jothram. We will vote 
for the nominee of the party, but at present we have 
some interest in having a nomination made that will 
awaken the enthusiasm of the whole people in his sup- 
port.” 

“My dear sir, you are right — very right in your 
views. But just now at this crisis, that seems hardly 
an open question. Colonel Peter Hilts, you know, is 
a candidate. He has warm friends, and if he shall be 
nominated he will get the support of many of our 
political foes. He is a Methodist, you know, and has 
a host of relations and personal friends, each one of 
whom has great influence. I do not speak for myself, 
but all the friends of our party that I have seen for a 
week past — and I have seen a great many of the lead- 
ing men of our party — all of them say that Hilts is 
our strongest man — our most available candidate. If 


CHATTANOOGA. 257 

we get him nominated, they say, we will cut into our 
foes to the tune of two hundred votes.’’ 

‘‘Ido not care much about the nomination on. my 
own account, I assure you, Mr. Jothram.’^ 

“ Certainly not, sir,^’ said Jothram, crossing his feet 
upon the table — certainly not, sir. I never saw a can- 
didate who did. You care only for your country.” 

Norton looked a little abashed at this speech, but 
soon rallied. 

“ I have heard since I came here, with great pain, I 
assure you, that we are in danger of losing the press. 
That that old shylock, Tim. Haggerty, has a judgment 
against you for groceries furnished for your family, and 
is about to levy on the press, not so much for the pur- 
pose of getting the debt as to stop the press just before 
the election.” 

“It’s true, sir — too true — subscribers don’t pay — 
won ’t pay — the people can ’t be aroused to a full sense 
of their danger and their duty. I am .sitting here 
waiting for the constable or the sheriff to come in and 
stop me. I don ’t know at what moment he may enter. 
But I ’ll do my duty, sir, to the last. I ’ll stand on the 
deck and sink or swim with the ship. Live or die, no 
man shall say that Jeptha Jothram ever flinched from 
his duty, down to the last moment of his political life. 
Personally I care nothing about it. I have made sacri- 
fices of time, and, my friends say, of talents, for the 
cause. If the press shall be taken by the bloodhounds 
of the law from me, I can turn my attention to other 
and far more profitable pursuits. The whole world 
will then be open before me. Fame and Fortune have 
long with their syren songs been trying to allure me 
22 


258 


CHATTANOOGA. 


from the post of duty, — the Editorial chair of the 
‘ Star in the West:' devoted to the maintainance of 
liberty. But, sir. Fame and Fortune may sing until 
they are hoarse, Jeptha Jothram will stay at his post, 
content with poverty, so that he saves his party — and 
his priceless honor, sir — his priceless honor." 

‘‘ My dear sir," said Norton, no one ever doubted or 
can doubt yoiir honor. Since that affair you had with 
Colonel Totterall, a few years ago, that has been placed 
beyond suspicion and above reproach. I believe you 
killed him at the first fire?" 

‘‘Yes," said Jeptha Jothram, with a sigh, “he did 
fall, poor fellow, at the first shot. My bullet pierced 
his heart. His ball grazed my left temple. This is 
only one of the thousand sacrifices. I have made for my 
party — my country, but yet, here am I to-day, Mr. 
Norton, a poor creature, without a dollar to help my- 
self, and in hourly expectation of a visit from the sheriff, 
or a constable, to levy on my property. Republics are 
ungrateful — at least they have the appearance of being 
so." 

“ Mr. Jothram, I have just thought of a method of 
relieving you from your embarrassment." 

“What is it, Mr. Norton? Speak out." 

“ What is your press and the printing materials and 
the fixtures in your office worth at a fair cash price ? " 

“ At least fifteen hundred dollars, and all will be sold 
within twenty or thirty days for a song. My political 
enemies will shout in triumph over me. Our party will 
go down in this county, and, sir, in this State." 

“Why don’t you borrow money on the credit of 
your press ? " 


CHATTANOOGA. 


259 


‘^Borrow money, sir! Nobody has any to lend. 
Times are hard. Money is scarce, and those who have 
a little have use for all of it.” 

‘‘Lest my motives should be misconstrued in what I 
am about to do, please hand me a pen and paper, Mr. 
Jothram.” 

Mr. Jothram did so, and Norton wrote a notice that 
from considerations of a private nature he declined the 
honor of submitting his name to the approaching con- 
vention as a candidate for the Legislature, and would 
heartily support the nominee of that convention, who- 
ever he might be. 

“Please,” said Norton, as he handed the paper to 
Jeptha Jothram, “insert this in your next issue.” 

Jeptha Jothram read the notice and took it into an 
adjoining room. He can e back in a minute saying, 
“The paper with your notice will be out to-morrow — 
your friends will be taken by surprise — but you are a 
man of soul or you would never have done such a thing. 
Our party now will succeed. Hilts will be elected with- 
out doubt, with your cordial support.”' 

Norton coughed dryly. “The coast is clear now. 
No man can doubt my motives or your honor. Let 
me be frank. I take perhaps greater interest in the 
success of our party than might be expected from a 
mere private citizen. The press — it must be preserved. 
It must be fearless. It must be unshackled. It must 
be independent. Our enemies must not sing their 
songs of triumph over us. It would drive me mad.” 

“Ah,” said Jeptha, “I see you have a soul.” 

“ Well, sir, I wish to relieve the press. For yourself, 
personally, you know without the necessity of further 
assurance that I have the highest regard. And if you. 


260 


CHATTANOOGA. 


you only, were interested in this matter, I would not 
without your invitation make the proposal which I am 
about to make — but for our party ^ for our principles I 
have the right to do something. 

Certainly, sir,’^ said Jeptha Jothram. ‘‘This is a 
country of equal rights. The editor of a newspaper of 
the ‘Star in the West,’ for example, has no more 
rights than the humblest planter in the country. It is 
the boast of our institutions that all men are free and 
equal. I am equal to the king of England, sir — and 
the king of England is equal to me. If I were to meet 
with him, it would be my duty to treat him as a gen- 
tleman — to be courteous to him, and it would be his 
duty to treat me as a gentleman — to recognize my 
equality with him'. So, too, with the Czar of Russia, 
with the President of the United States — with the 
King of France. Ah ! Mr. Norton, believe me I would, 
notwithstanding my ardent .Republicanism, treat any 
monarch in Europe as a gentleman. If he came into 
my sanctum, to have an hours chat with me, he could 
sit on that broken chair on which you now sit, and I 
would talk with him as freely and as kindly as I now 
talk with you. 

“No doubt of it, Mr. Jothram. But what I wish to 
say now is, that I take so great an interest in our cause 
*that I am willing — (he paused for a moment and looked 
Jeptha steadily in the face) — I am willing to buy in 
these judgments and other outstanding claims against 
you, and take a mortgage on your press and materials to 
secure the repayment of the money — say within a year.’’ 

“You do not want to have any control over the 
editorial department of the paper of course? ” said 
Jothram. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


261 


^‘Certainly not, Mr. Jothram — certainly not. I 
know you too well to think of such a thing as that. 
Your political independence is too well known — too 
firmly established to be tampered with. My own 
honor, sir, would restrain me from any such conduct.’’ 

‘‘Well, sir,” said Jeptha, “the thing is intrinsically 
right. The editor of a newspaper has no greater in- 
terest in the success of his party, than any other man 
in that party, and should not' be called upon to make 
any greater sacrifices for it. I have sacrificed my whole 
life almost for the party. But why talk of sacrifice. 
^You will be safe. Your mortgage on the press will 
secure every dollar of your money, and interest upon 
it.” 

Norton obtained from Jeptha a list of his debts (as 
far as he could remember them), and paid them off. 
He then took a mortgage on the press and materials of 
the printing-office, and went home. 

The next number of the “Star in the West” con- 
tained the card of Norton, informing the public that 
for reasons entirely private, he declined to submit his 
name to the convention. It contained also a long edi- 
torial article in which Norton’s integrity — his honor — 
his fitness for the office of representative — were all 
lauded in language so gross, that Norton himself said, 
when he read it: “Jothram must have written this 
when he had half a pint too much liquor.’ 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


Norton called on the Reverend Jabez Glitters the 
next day after his interview with Jeptha Jothram. 
Mrs. Martha Glitters informed him that her husband 
was unwell, and could not see any person. Dr. Shelly 
had said that he must be very quiet, or he would not 
hold himself responsible for the consequences. 

My business with him, madam, is urgent, and not 
at all exciting. I wish to see him for a few moments 
only.’' 

Mrs. Martha Glitters left Norton in the front room, 
and soon returned. “ He says he can see you as your 
business is urgent, sir.” 

Norton was shewn into a back room. The Reverend 
Jabez Glitters rose to receive him, handed him a chair, 
and then sat and interlaced the fingers of his hands, 
and placed them on his breast. He extended his legs 
to their full length before him. 

‘^I have heard of your misfortunes, Mr. Glitters, and 
am sorry for it. How are your ears to-day, sir ?” 

‘‘lam thankful that they are better — much better. 
At the first and beginning of my misfortune, they would 
not heal, because they could not be inflamed and made 
to swell ; but that excellent physician and surgeon. Dr. 
John Shelly, put a plaster of cantharides or Spanish 
flies upon them, and since that time they have inflamed 
and swelled. They continue to be inflamed and swelled, 
and will, in a little time, heal, and be well and sound.” 

( 262 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


263 


have no doubt of it. Your personal appearance, 
I see, is greatly improved; hut, then, you have gained 
that improvement by great suffering.’’ 

“Yes, yes, indeed; suffering, and pain, and affliction 
is the lot of mortals in this mundane, and wicked, and 
lost world ; but,” he added, with a sigh, and a weak 
smile, “I endure it — I bear it — submit to it with 
cheerfulness — with joy — and with resigned patience. 
Oh! sir,” he added, looking at Norton, with a smile, 
“the virtue and grace of patience — they are sweet and 
delicious even as honey — yea, sweeter than honey in 
the honey comb 1” 

“ I do not doubt it, sir. But I confess I have not 
much of it. A negro girl of mine ran away some five 
years ago, and I have not the least doubt but that she is 
now in the Indian camp, and the wife of that scoun- 
drelly chief. Grey Eagle. I am impatient to caoch her. 
She is the very girl who rescued that child from you, 
and robbed you of your property. 

“I do not think that such impatience as that — impa- 
tience only to obtain our own — is at all wrong or 
vicious. If it were so, men would not be earnest and 
diligent in business, and in the occupations of life.” 

“ Can’t we, sir,” said Norton, “ unite our efforts in 
one common cause, and each recover his property? We 
have each heretofore made searches for our slaves, but 
they have failed. I have helped you, it is true, but one 
more grand hunt, in which all your friends will unite 
with mine, will result in securing our property to each 
of us.” 

The eyes of Jabez brightened. “I wish and desire 
much, and greatly to obtain and have that child. It is 
mine ; but only as a trustee for benevolent and religious 


264 


CHATTANOOGA. 


purposes, and uses, and objects. If any plan can be 
adopted, and devised, and agreed upon, that will be 
successful, I will do all that I can to carry it into full 
and complete fruition and effect.'' 

‘•Well, sir,'’ said Norton, “I have the plan. If you 
will only get your friends to unite with us in great 
numbers, I am sure of success. Four hundred dollars 
worth of property is no light thing to lose, especially 
in such times as these. And then, sir, the injury you 
have suffered in your person, should induce you to 
use your utmost efforts to recapture that child.” 

“My personal injuries,” said Jabez, “are nothing, 
and less than nothing, and vanity. Do not mention or 
name them. It is the cause of Zion, and the loss she 
has sustained — is sustaining, and I fear will sustain, that 
grieves and afflicts me. If that loss can be repaired, 
the man who aids me in doing and effecting it, will 
deserve the gratitude of his country, and of mankind; 
yea, all men, and even of women and children.” 

“I am glad, sir,” said Norton, “that this affair has 
made us acquainted. I have often wished to visit you, 
but have not ventured to call. Besides, too, you are 
so often away from home, that I could not know when 
I would get to see you. I think that as we are neigh- 
bors, we will be friends." 

“Yes, yes!” said Jabez, whose countenance shewed 
that he was flattered by this speech of Norton’s, “I 
have a friendly feeling — even a brotherly regard for 
mankind. The duty, Mr. Norton, — the great duty of 
loving our neighbor even as ourselves, is too often and 
too greatly overlooked and neglected. It should be 
cultivated with as much attention as a precious plant — 
even as a blooming flower from Eden, and from Paradise. 


CHATTANOOGA. 265 

But,” he added, with a sigh, ‘‘ the world — the world 
knows it not!’' 

“You are very right, no doubt, sir,” said Norton, 
rather dryly. “I intend to bestow more attention upon 
it, than I have done. I wish very much, indeed, sir, to 
extend my acquaintance with some of the preachers of 
your denomination (in this county, I mean, sir,) and if 
you will enable me to do so, I will take it as a favor.” 

Jabez smiled again. “I will do it as soon as possi- 
ble. As soon as I can be released from the painful 
circumstances in which I am placed.” 

“Are your ears still painful, sir?” 

“Oh! no, no,” said Jabez, “it is not that, that 
grieves and afflicts me at this present time and moment. 
Let me tell you, Mr. Norton, that I am now, at this 
time, under the painful circumstances of being disci- 
plined by our church. Grave charges are made and 
prefered against me. Even the charge and accusation 
of profanity. It ’s said and charged, that at the time 
the negro child bit and devoured my ear — my right ear, 
I swore at it.” 

“Why, I should ’nt wonder, sir, if you did so. Job 
himself would have lost his patience under such circum- 
stances. Nobody should pay attention to a hasty word 
uttered under such great provocation.” 

“Yes, but men of the world and Christians see 
such things in different and diverse lights and views. 
I do not think and believe such a charge a light one — 
it grieves me to the heart.” 

“Does it, indeed,” said Norton, looking fully upon 
the Reverend Jabez Glitters. “ Why, sir, you are too 
sensitive — too much so indeed, for this world. If I 
23 


266 


CHATTANOOGA. 


were charged with saying the very same words, a hun- 
dred times over, I would not care a straw about it/^ 

‘‘Ah said Jabez, “the difference — the wide differ-’ 
ence between a man of the world and a citizen of Zion.*^ 

“ A citizen of where, sir? 

“Of Zion, Mr. Norton. I am a man who is only a 
stranger and a wayfarer and a sojourner here below, 
and whose home and habitation is above — pointing up- 
ward with his long fingers — whose dwelling place is 
in the skies.’' 

“Oh!’^ said Norton, “I see it now. On what day 
had the hunt better take place ? I have already told 
you I am impatient. Indeed, sir, one of my motives — 
one of the principal objects I have in view is to catch 
and punish my girl, Iluldah, for her abuse of you.” 

“At any time and day you please, Mr. Norton — the 
sooner, however, the earlier the day the better it will 
be. I have no feelings of revenge or ill-will — not an 
unkind thought towards and against the poor frail, sin- 
ful, and wicked creature who did the deed. I carefully 
suppress and keep down all such feelings and emotions 
and thoughts. They are all of the earth — earthly, and 
do not become a man whose peace flows as a river — 
even as Jordan when his banks are full.” 

“ Send word to me, if you please, Mr. Glitters, when 
you have an opportunity to make me acquainted with 
some of the preachers of your church, and I will ride 
over to see them.” 

“ I will do so, Mr. Norton — I will do so. You will 
find them holy men. It will do you good — great good, 
to be with them. It will be a blessing to you.” 

The next day Norton sent a servant over to Mr. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


267 


Glitters, with a bundle of newspapers, and among others 
the Star in the West,’’ which had in it his card de- 
clining the honor of submitting his name for nomination 
to the convention, and the fulsome editorial article of 
Jeptha Jothram. He sent a note addressed to the 
Reverend Jabez Glitters, in which he stated that it 
afforded him great pleasure to send a trifle that might, 
perhaps, interest him while he was confined to the 
house by his sickness. 

Jabez replied, and stated that he did not know Mr. 
Norton's name had been mentioned as a candidate for 
the Legislature until he saw his card in w’hich he 
declined the honor, and that he fully concurred with 
the editor in all that he had said about the public loss. 
Yea, he added — he might have said much, very much, 
more about the fitness of Mr. Norton for the high and 
responsible position and office of representative in the 
legislature. If Mr. Norton had not declined he would 
have exerted his little and limited and feeble influence 
in his behalf — which would have been likewise, and at 
the same time of and for the benefit of the public and 
of the State. 

Norton read his note with eager interest, and laid it 
carefully away. 

In the afternoon of the day of the great church trials 
already mentioned, Norton received an invitation from 
the Reverend Jabez Glitters to come over and meet 
at his house a few ministering brethren who would take 
dinner with him : — in a plain way, he added — for we 
censure and condemn the sin and iniquity and wicked- 
ness of eating merely to gratify the appetite. 


CHAPTEE XXXIY. 


^‘Cousin Ned/' said Mrs. Kite, ’swell enough, 
as you are a candidate for the legislature, to associate 
with such people as the Methodists ; but I am older than 
you, and intend you shall succeed. Let me give you 
a word of advice.” 

Say on, Aunt Sally, you know that I have a most 
profound respect for your opinions.” 

‘‘Oh, you flattersome creature, you. But what I 
want to tell you — to impress upon you, is this : Conde- 
scend to them as much as you can, but do it in such a 
way that they shall all the time feel that you are con- 
descending to them. Let them see that you have great 
self-respect, and some how people who greatly respect 
themselves in this world, are sure to obtain the respect 
of others. Let them see that you think yourself fit for 
any station, and they will at last concur with you in 
opinion. But one thing, dear Edward,” she said, with 
a smile, “ I beg of you — don’t invite any of them to 
your house, at least, while I am here ; it would be such 
a bore to entertain them." 

“ I assure you. Aunt, you have yourself proved that 
I did not flatter you. Your advice is sensible, and shall 
be carefully followed.” 

Norton rode over to dine with the Reverend Jabez 
Glitters, and got there about three o’clock in the after- 
noon of the day of the important church trials. Jabez 
and two of his friends were sitting in a small parlor. 

( 268 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


269 


Everything about the room was tidy and comfortable. 
A copy of Clark’s Commentaries laid on a well polished 
mahogany side table, and a small book case, with glass 
doors, which were covered by blue curtains, stood at 
the other side of the room, which seemed to be filled 
wdth ponderous books. 

Norton was duly introduced to the Reverend James 
Cray, and the Reverend Peter Callott. Mr. Cray was 
the small, narrow faced minister, whom we saw at the 
meeting-house, and who was so devoted to maintaining 
the doctrine of sanctification — and the doctrine of sla- 
very. The Reverend Peter Callott was the minister to 
whom Sister Bulger addressed her inquiries on the 
same occasion. 

The excitement caused by the trials had not yet sub- 
sided in the minds of Cray and Callott. Jabez was 
calm, composed, and quiet. He sat with his arms 
folded across his breast — sometimes apparently ab- 
stracted in meditation — at other times listening to the 
conversation of the two ministers, and weakly smiling 
at some remark made by the one or the other of them. 

A negro boy came into the room and said : Master, 
two gentleman is a coming.” 

‘‘Ah,” said Jabez, “one of them is Brother Shirk- 
well, I have no doubt, as I received a letter from him a 
week or ten days ago, stating and mentioning that he 
would visit this part of the State and country about this 
time, and I have been looking for him, and expecting 
him. I do not know who the other is ; no doubt it is 
some brother who is traveling with, and accompanying 
him.” 

At the name of Dr. Shirkwell, Brother Cray raised 
both his hands and caught his breath, as he said to 


270 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Norton, who was seated by him: ‘^Dr. Shirkwell — the 
great Dr. Shirkwell — a man who reads the Scriptures 
in the original languages ; who has written more books 
than he has fingers and toes, and is one of the greatest 
preachers alive. A second Wesley, sir. A second 
Wesley.’^ 

Dr. Shirkwell walked with a slow and stately pace 
from the gate to the house. He was a tall, straight, 
dignified looking man, about sixty years of age. The 
minister who came with him was the Reverend William 
Stoor. He was more than six feet high, and very large. 
His features were harsh and almost repulsive, but there 
was, in his small, blue eye, an arch twinkle which indi- 
cated great love of fun. 

Dinner was soon announced, and when Norton was 
seated at the table, he saw that Jabez had no reason to 
apologize for his fare. It was abundant and very 
good. 

After Brother Cray had somewhat recovered from 
his abashment at the presence of the great Dr. Shirk- 
well, his mind returned to the subject on which it had 
been running all the morning, and he led off the con- 
versation with the remark — 

‘^Brother Shirkwell, we were just talking on the sub- 
ject of sanctification and slavery when you came in, 
and I remarked that our church in the south is the 
standard bearer among the tribes of Israel of these two 



Here he paused, for he saw from the countenance 
of Dr. Shirkwell, that his remarks were not approved 
of. 

Brother, you are right — very right, indeed. Our 
church does sustain slaveholding and the doctrine of 


CHATTANOOGA. 


271 


sanctification. But a great deal depends, my young 
brother,” said Dr. Shirkwell, with a condescending 
waive of his hand and bend of his head — ‘‘ a great 
deal depends upon the manner in which our proposi- 
tions are stated. It seems to me that you err (here 
he smiled upon brother Cray) in bringing the two 
doctrines so closely together so as to present them to 
the minds of the hearers at one view. It would be 
better to separate them, and preach, for instance, on 
sanctification, one day, without alluding to slavehold- 
ing — and at some other and distant time — preach on 
slaveholding, and show our membership that it is right.” 

Ah ! you ’re nearly right thar. Doctor — you ’re 
nearly right thar,” said brother Stoor. They ought to 
be separated as widely as Heaven and Hell, and should 
never come together.” 

Dr. Shirkwell smiled and said, in under tone, to sis- 
ter Martha Glitters, by whom he was seated, ‘‘ Brother 
Stoor is a little eccentric, sister.” 

Sister Glitters was a very tall middle aged woman, 
with a long face, (whose only features worthy of remark, 
was, that her mouth, instead of being parallel with her 
forehead, began at the left corner in a line with her 
nose, and went aslant like a lady’s hand-writing, to- 
ward her chin on the other side,) said, ‘‘ Yes, he is a 
little so, but he seems so very pleasant.” 

Brother,” said Dr. Shirkwell, I think we should 
not justify slaveholding. We should groan over it in 
spirit, and wish our membership could be relieved from 
it.” 

^^Ah! Doctor — Doctor,” said brother Stoor, ^^we 
have played that groaning game so long that it is of 
no use to go on with it. Nobody will believe us. The 


272 


CHATTANOOGA. 


people wbo are not slaveholders are laughing at us in 
their sleeves, and sometimes even to our faces. If any 
man wants to quit sinning he can do so if he will. 
That's good old Methodist and Christian doctrine. 
‘ Whar thar ’s a will thar ’s a way.’ If the laws of 
the State forbid a man to set his slaves free, no law 
forbids him to take them to some place where he can 
do so. I never saw or heard of a man who wanted 
to emancipate his slaves in right good earnest who did 
not do it. Doctor, tq,at groaning game won’t do. The 
Providence of Grod never compels a man to sin.” 

Dr. Shirkwell whispered to sister Glitters, Brother 
Stoor is very eccentric — very eccentric, indeed.” 

‘‘Yes,” said sister Glitters, smiling, “I see that he 
is; but he's so frank." 

“ Brethren,” said Dr. Shirkwell, addressing the 
company, “ brother Stoor and I can never agree upon 
this subject. He seems to think that the world was 
made in one day, and not in six, as the Scriptures tell 
us.’' 

Jabez looked up from his plate and smiled. “Do 
you think. Dr. Shirkwell, that slaveholding is sinful ? " 

Oh no, brother Glitters, not at all. But I think 
we should denounce and oppose the abuses of the 
institution. I suppose brother Stoor will agree with 
me in this.” 

Ah! Doctor,” said brother Stoor, striking the table 
with his clenched fist, so that the plates and tumblers 
rattled, that is like denouncing a man for not feeding 
and currying a stolen horse, and being silent about the 
theft.'’ 

“ Brother Stoor is very eccentric," said Dr. Shirk- 
well to sister Glitters — very eccentric, indeed." 


CHATTANOOGA. 273 

Yes,” said sister Glitters, with her face much longer 
than usual, he is alarmingly eccentric.” 

Doctor,” said sister Martha Glitters, “ Do you think 
it wrong to hunt a runaway nigger ? I ask you, be- 
cause my husband hunted for one lately, and some cen- 
sorious people in this neighborhood have hinted that it 
was not quite right for him to do so.” 

‘‘My dear sister,” said Dr. Shirkwell, laying down 
his knife and fork, “ How can you ask such a question ? 
Why, sister Glitters, the Gonstitution of the United 
States confers that right on all persons whose slaves 
escape from one State into another State. How can a 
thing be wrong when the Gonstitution of the whole 
Union sanctions it ? ” 

“Ah! Doctor,” said the Reverend Jabez Glitters, 
leaning back in his chair and looking steadily on his 
plate, while he proceeded in a low and solemn voice — 
that may do for a man of the world. Doctor, but for a 
man, 

Whose peace flows as a river, 

Even as Jordan, 

When his banks are full, 

The company all sat in profound silence, looking at 
J abez, who slowly continued his remarks : 

“The Gonstitution of the United States and the laws 
of the United States, and the constitution of Tennessee, 
have been made by fallible and erring men — they may 
do as guides and laws and rules of conduct for men 
of this world. But, for me. 

Whose peace flows as a river, 

Even as Jordan, 

When his banks are full, 

it is not enough.” 

“ They will not do, Doctor,” said Jabez, slowly shaking 


CHATTANOOGA. 


5^74 

his head — they will not do. I — I must have a ‘Thus 
saith the Lord.’ That alone, will satisfy me.^’ 

“ Amen,^’ said brother Stoor, from the lower end of 
the table. “ That’s it, brother Glitters.’^ 

“ Now, Doctor, I think and believe it is a canon 
or law of interpretation that when an article of pro- 
perty is mentioned in scripture, you may, in most cases, 
substitute another article or kind of property in its 
place and stead. As when a man is forbidden to steal 
a sheep, the rule applies with equal force and power to 
horses and horned cattle as w^ell as to sheep.” 

“ It would seem so, brother Glitters — it would, I say, 
seem so, but I do not as yet speak positively, as I have 
not examined the original scriptures on that point.” 

“Well, then, if a man have a hundred negroes and 
one of them runs away, doth he not leave the ninety 
and nine with the overseer, and go after that which 
hath fled ; and when he hath found it, he layeth it on 
his shoulder and beareth it home, saying to his neigh- 
bors, ‘ Eejoice with me, for I have found — my nigger 
which was lost.” 

“Negroes are property — sheep and horned cattle are 
property — goods and chattels.” 

The whole company were surprised and delighted 
with this happy illustration. Norton said he never 
saw into the matter so clearly before. Dr. Shirkwell 
said, “ That, brother Glitter, is a thought worth pre- 
serving,” and he pulled out a little red morocco pocket- 
book and a silver pencil, and immediately put down the 
heads of the argument. 

Sister Martha Glitters began to cry and put her 
handkerchief to her face to hide her tears. 

Brother Stoors looked puzzled, as if he thought 


CHATl^ANOOGA. 275 

there was something wrong about the thing, but could 
not exactly discover where or how it was. 

Jabez raised his eyes from his plate with a weak 
gentle smile that just curled the right corner of his 
mouth, It is '%}iat that I rely on, brethren — that 
satisfies and suffices me.’^ 

Dr. Shirkwell put up his red morocco pocket-book 
and said — . 

“ Brother Glitters, when I return home and have ac- 
cess to my library, I will examine the passage in the 
original Greek, and write you my views on the subject. 
It may be that when we shall make a new translation 
for the benefit of southern Methodists, that the word 
in the original which is now rendered ‘ sheep,’ will just 
as well bear to be rendered ^ negroes,’ as both are pro- 
perty, and if so — if so, brother, the question will be 
settled — settled — put at rest forever.” 

‘‘ Do so. Doctor,” said sister Glitters. We will look 
eagerly for the letter.” 

The conversation soon slid over to other subjects, 
and Norton bore his full share in it in such manner 
that all the company were delighted with him. 

As he was about to go away, the Reverend Jabez 
Glitters produced the last number of the Star in the 
West,” and read 'aloud in a slow and solemn tone, the 
editorial article referring to Mr. Norton. 

Brother Gray looked at Norton with profound re- 
spect. Doctor Shirkwell was more cordial to him than 
he had been before, and as he bade him farewell, said 
he hoped that he would reconsider his purpose and give 
the state the benefit of his services. Jabez and all the 
ministers except brother Stoor, united in this wish, and 
begged him to reconsider his resolution. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


2^6 

In a few days it was reported in the neighborhood, 
that Mr. Norton wanted to decline the nomination, 
but his neignbors, without respect to party, were deter- 
mined to vote for him whether he was a candidate or 
not. 

Very soon afterward the ‘‘Star in the West’' an- 
nounced to the public that Edward Norton, Esquire, 
modestly wished to remain in private life, but the crisis 
was so urgent — the demand for men of high character 
and great talents was so great, that party differences 
were now happily laid as they should be — on the shelf, 
at least for this campaign, and all good men and 
true would cordially unite in his support. His name 
was, therefore, without his knowledge or consent, rein- 
serted in the paper as a candidate for nomination. 

The friends of Col. Hilts looked with, great jealousy 
upon this movement. The party organ had gone over 
to Norton's interest. They had no choice left them 
but to apply to the newspaper of the opposite party, 
and the next week the “ Weekly Tomahawk and Scalp- 
ing Knife” came out wuth an article signed “Ajax,” 
in which the writer distinctly stated, that, from his 
own personal knovJedge the Editor of the “ Star in the 
West” had been bribed by Norton, to support him, 
and that he had the evidence in his own hands, and 
would shew documents to any person who would call 
at the office of the “T. and S. K.,” and added, “More 
anon.” 

The “Weekly Tomahawk and Scalping Knife” was 
published in a village about twenty miles from that 
which was blessed with the light of “ Star in the 
West,” and the next day after the publication of the 
offensive article Jeptha Jothram rode over and sent a 


CHATTANOOGA. 277 

committee of three of his personal and political friends 
to John Cassard Burton. 

^^Tell him/’ said he, that Jeptha Jothram is in 
town.” 

The committee, headed by their foreman, Colonel John 
Barnes, ascended a flight of outside steps to the oflice 
of John Cassard Burton, and found him surrounded by 
a group of his political friends. 

‘‘We have come, sir, as a committee in behalf of our 
friend, to inform you that Jeptha Jothram is in town.” 

“What did the old bloat come to this place for?” 
said John Cassard Burton. 

“Don’t know,” said Colonel John Barnes, and the 
committee returned. 

They went to the tavern which Jeptha Jothram 
patronized, and repeated the exact words of John Cas- 
sard Burton. 

“ I T1 make him know, before I leave this village, 
wliat I came here for. The fellow shall not assail my 
honor in its most tender and vital part with impunity. 
Please call on him again, and tell him that I am here 
to have his foul and libelous article retracted, or to 
have satisfaction.” 

The committee retired, and again climbed up the 
steps to John Cassard Burton’s oflice. 

“Mr. Jeptha Jothram says, sir, the offensive article 
against him in yesterday’s paper must be retracted.” 

“It is true, every word of it, and the proofs are 
here in this oflice. As for satisfaction, the most satis- 
factory thing that he can do, will be to shut himself up 
all day in a dark room and contemplate his own vir- 
tues.” 

The committee, headed by their foreman, withdrew 


278 


CHATTANOOGA. 


and delivered their message to Jeptha Jothram. But 
Jeptha had ridden several miles that morning, and was 
fatigued : of course he took a few glasses of hot whisky 
punch, and was too much intoxicated to send another 
message. He was put to bed, and his friends waited 
until he had slept off the effects of the whisky. 

“ Will it end in a duel?’' they said, one to another, 
or w'ill the editor, who had made so gross a charge, 
return to his senses and do justice to their injured 
friend? In about an hour Jeptha Jothram awoke. 

Go over, gentlemen, and tell that libelous rascal 
that Jeptha Jothram is in town.’' 

We have done so already, and he wants to know 
what you are here for.” 

Go over, gentlemen, and tell him that article must 
be retracted.” 

‘‘We have done so, sir, and he says he wont do it.” 

“ Go over, then, and tell him that I will have satis- 
faction.’' 

. “We have done so, sir, and returned his answer to 
you before you went to sleep.” 

“Go over then, gentlemen, and ask him in plain 
terms, if he will fight a duel with me?'’ 

The committee retired again, and climbed the steps 
to John Cassard Burton’s office. 

“Jeptha Jothram, Esq., wishes to know if you will 
fight a duel with him?” 

“No; times are too hard. It would cost at least ten 
cents to buy powder and ball enough to kill him, and 
I will not waste so much money on such an object.” 

The committee returned, and reported to Jeptha 
Jothram. 

“ Go back once more, gentlemen, and tell the coward 


CHATTANOOGA. 279 

that Jeptha Jothram is in town, and will stay here until 
he gets satisfaction.’’ ' 

The committee again climbed the stairs, and delivered 
the message. 

‘‘Tell him, gentlemen,’’ said John Cassard Burton, 
“ that there is but half a barrel of whisky in this town, 
and none to be had nearer than ten miles. He ’ll go as 
soon as that is drunk up.” 

The committee returned and delivered the message to 
Jeptha Jothram. 

About an hour afterward a great uproar was heard 
in the village. Tailors, carpenters, blacksmiths, tavern- 
keepers, men, women and children, all ran to the place 
where the uproar was loudest. Some persons at the 
other end of the village cried fire ! fire ! fire ! Others 
shouted for water. Alarm bells were rung ; dogs 
barked ; cats mewed, and cows bellowed. Some, as they 
ran, said it was a tornado. Others said they felt the shock 
of an earthquake. But, when they reached the place — 
the middle of the public street — they found nearly all 
the men and women of the village formed into a ring, 
and in the center were Jeptha Jothram and John Cas- 
sard Burton fighting. They bit — they gouged — they 
scratched each other — they pulled each other’s hair, 
and kicked, and rolled over and over in the dust. One 
party shouted for Burton — the other for Jothram. A 
large number of minor fights were going on at the same 
time. Men who wanted to see fair play pushed and 
pulled those who did not. At last Jeptha Jothram 
conquered his antagonist, and made him cry “enough.” 
The parties were separated. The blood was wiped 
from their faces, and the dust from their clothes. 
John Cassard Burton’s left eye was entirely closed and 


280 


CHATTANOOGA. 


black. Jeptha Jotbram's nose, which, before the fight, 
was a lively red, was a dark, purple color, intermingled 
with largo spots of greenish yellow, and twisted awry, 
and very much swolen. The original notes from which 
this account is taken, states that one Tom Giles, an 
old settler, who happened to be present, and who had 
lately joined the Baptist Church, said, ‘‘ It were a great 
shame for two sich high lamed gentlemen to be a 
fightin’ like dogs,^' and proposed that they should 
drink friends. The whole crowd seconded the motion 
with a shout, and were all invited by Jeptha Jothram 
to the bar, ’who told the landlord to treat the whole 
company, and charge the bill to him. John Cassard 
Burton said that he did not write the offensive article. 
It was inserted by the foreman while he was out of 
town. He did not see it till the next day, and re- 
gretted its insertion. But his correspondent was an 
honorable man, and some circumstances which he com- 
municated, gave at least a show of truth to the charge. 

Jeptha Jothram explained the whole, and the next 
week the ^‘Tomahawk and Scalping Knife contained 
a long article, stating, in substance, that ‘‘a more 
thorough investigation of the charge had convinced the 
editor that injustice had unintentionally been done 
Jeptha Jothram, Esq., which he greatly regretted, and 
was happy to relieve him from the imputation. Mr. 
Jeptha Jothram, although wrong in his political opinions, 
was the soul of chivalry and honor. He was delighted 
to do justice to the character of an honorable political 
foe.’’ 

Mr. Strong was so greatly interested in this part of 
the narrative, that he borrowed a horse of the landlord, 
and rode over to the place where the combat occurred, 


CHATTANOOGA. 


281 


to collect, if lie could, further particulars about the 
parties. 

When he got there, he inquired of the landlord of the 
tavern at which he stopped, if he knew any man there 
who could give him any information of a gentleman 
named Jeptha Jothram. 

The landlord looked earnestly at him, and taking him 
to the door, pointed to a one story frame building across 
the street. Go into that tailor’s shop, and you will 
find a gentleman there who knows him very well.’’ 

Mr. Strong went over to the shop, and found it occu- 
pied by only one man— an old, grey haired tailor, who 
was sitting at work on his bench. He stated his 
errand. 

“Do I know the Honorable Jeptha Jothram? Yes, 
sir. Him and me has always been warm personal 
and political friends. On the day when the great 
fight took place between him and the editor of the 
Tory paper, that lived here then, and who had scanda- 
lized his karackter, for which he got well whipped, as 
he deserved to be; well, sir, as I was telling you, on 
that day he got his coat tore in the scrimmage, and 
come into my shop to get it mended. While he was 
here in this very shop, I had a new coat hanging up on 
that very peg that you see thar by the door, and Jeptha 
Jothram tried it on, and it fit him exactly. I made it 
for Peter Kelly’s weddin’ coat, and hung it up not half 
an hour before the great fight took place, and I told Mr. 
Jeptha Jothram so, and he says to me, “Malone, can’t 
you get Peter Kelly to put off his wedding for another 
week, and let me take this coat, and you make him 
another?' 

“I went over and saw Kelly and his intended, and 
24 


282 


CBATTANCOGA. 


they agreed for to accommodate Mr. Jothram, bein’ as be 
bad just whipped a Tory editor, and' Mr. Jothram took 
the coat. It was a nice fit, and one of the very best 
coats that ever went out of this or any other man’s 
•shop in this State. Mr. Jothram said he didn’t care 
about the price, as I was so kind as to accommodate 
him, and that he would send the money over for it, 
with the money that he would send over to the landlord 
to pay his tavern bill. The money did not come as 
soon as I looked for it. Let me see,” said the old man, 
getting off his shop board, and going to an old desk 
from which he took whole bundles of books, covered 
with pasteboard. “Ah, here’s the original entry — 
let me see. It ’s more than thirty years ago. I ’ve 
constantly carried the account into my new books, 
and now it ^mounts up to a pretty smart sum. But Mr. 
Jothram is an honorable man, and one of my best 
friends, and when he gets able he will pay me, and the 
landlord, too, every cent, principal and interest.” 

“ He is yet living then ? ” 

“Bless your heart, yes, sir. He’s moved down 
to Mississippi, and is as lively as a kitten, only he’s 
been subject to fits of delirium tremens^ from a boy, 
which of course puils him down some.” 

Upon more diligent enquiry, Mr. Strong learned that 
Jeptha is subject to fits of delirium tremens^ and the 
effect on him is somewhat different from the effect of 
such fits upon some other editors. He does not see 
snakes, nor fiery flying dragons, nor great black dogs 
with flaming red eyes, as they do. In one of them 
Jeptha said, Avith his eyes dilated and glaring — 
“ See, see, there, there, they are — a man and his tvife, 
and three children — they ’re in a skiff on the Ohio 


CHATTANOOGA. 


283 


river. The woman hugs the baby to her breast and 
holds the other two by their clothes. It ’s bright moon 
light — the water curls like snow wreaths by the side 
of the boat as it cuts its way. The man rows as if for 
life. There — I don 't see them now — they’re in the 
shadow of that big sycamore tree on the other side of 
the river. There — there — the boat is out in the moon- 
light again. The man rows harder and faster, they 
reach the shore. They land and the skiff is adrift 
on the river. The man and his wife and the two 
oldest children kneel down and thank God. Now they 
raise their arms in the air and seem to be shout- 
ing. They are runaways — slaves. Help! — help! — 
Oh, help ! Will no one stop them ? Stop them ! stop 
them! The Union is in danger! The Union shall 
be dissolved unless they are brought back.” And he fell 
back with clenched hands — trembling in convulsions. 

Jeptha, although not a member of any church, has 
great respect for religion ” — not indeed without dis- 
crimination, for that would implj’ a want of judgment. 

A few years after the great church trials, brother 
Stoor became somewhat more eccentric, and preached 
doctrines which Jeptha said were incendiary and de- 
structive to the peace and happiness of the state. Jep- 
tha headed a mob that tarred and feathered him .and 
ducked him in a horse-pond, and drove him in disgrace 
from the state. 

But he listened with great pleasure to the sermons 
of the Reverend Jabez Glitters. They sat easily on his 
stomach as a bowl of chicken soup after a fit of delirium. 
They quieted his nerves and composed his whole sys- 
tem. After the death of the Reverend Jabez Glitters, 
he wrote a handsome eulogy on him half a column long, 


284 


CHATTANOOGA. 


and inserted it in his paper. Sister Martha Glitters 
cut it out and pasted it in her family Bible under the 
head Deaths.’^ 

Jeptha yet retains his love for the Glitters family. 
Jabez Glitters, Jr., D. D., and Hector Glitters are 
his favorite preachers. They maintain with unabated 
zeal the great principles of their father. They are 
saints and slaveholders. 

Jeptha, when he is a little intoxicated, makes some 
queer speeches. He says : 

‘‘The government of the United States, sir, is in 
POEM a government of the people ; but, in FACT, a gov- 
ernment of newspaper editors. The editors, sir, are 
the figures, and the people are good, round, good look- 
ing ciphers — count well when in their proper position, 
but that's all, sir. You can tell any man's vote by the 
newspaper he takes just as well as by his ballot. The 
representatives in Gongress are our representatives, sir, 
the representatives of the neAvspapers — not of the 
people. 

Jeptha says he is an unfllinching supporter of our 
Nation's rights — State rights — the people’s rights — 
of all rights — but the rights of women and niggers. 

Jeptha thinks that if laws should be passed to secure 
to every laborer an honest day’s wages for an honest 
day's work — the country would be ruined. “ He would 
rather,’^ he says, “see it swallowed up by an earth- 
quake, than that such ‘incendiary' doctrines should 
prevail." 


CHAPTER XXXy. 


Our readers have been already informed that Mr. 
Brandon purchased a small tract of land, adjoining 
that of Rashleigh’s. As they were neighbors, Rashleigh, 
soon after his return from Europe, and Brandon, al- 
though both of them seemed to be half hermits, soon 
met, and were pleased with each other. Rashleigh 
called on Brandon and his family, and was surprised 
and delighted to find that his neighbors were cultivated 
and intelligent people. 

He told his servants soon after he got home from a 
visit to Brandon, that the next day he expected com- 
pany to dinner, and ordered the necessary preparations 
to be made. 

It was an event in the family. A dinner party, and 
the preparations for it, reminded the servants of old 
times in England. Each was busy in his or her de- 
partment. Old silver that had never been unpacked 
from the boxes in which it had been brought to Ame- 
rica, was brought out and brightened. China and cut 
glass, which had been stored away in dark closets, were 
brought out into the sunlight. The cooks were busy. 
Old bottles, filled with sweet meats, and covered with 
dust and cobwebs, were unsealed, and their precious 
contents placed in suitable dishes for the dinner. But 
who were^he visitors that were expected ? Mr. Rash- 
leigh had not told them, and they, of course, did not 
venture to inquire. 


( 285 ) 


286 


CHATTANOOGA. 


John Huskett thought it was not himpossible that the 
President of the United States had heard of Mr. Rash- 
leigh, and was making a journey to call on him, or if 
that was not so, some distinguished hornithologist was 
out collecting Hamerican birds, worthless as they were, 
aid would dine with Mr. Rashleigh, before he plunged 
into the wilderness, “ as I ’ave done a thousand 
times,” he said, “ in Haustralia, and at the Cape of Good 
'Ope, when I ^ad the onner to be naturalist for his 
grace, the Duke of Devonshire.” Jinks thought it 
must be an Hinglishman, for Mr. Rashleigh, by this 
time, knew enough about the Hamericans, and would 
never dine with any of the blood-thirsty savages again. 

All were greatly surprised when Mr. Rashleigh or- 
dered the dinner to be ready by three o'clock, and said 
it was net the custom in America to dine at a later 
hour. 

“Hat three o’clock,” said Susan. “Why, we can’t 
light the wax candles at all, they will be done afore 
sunset, and who ever heard people dining afore sunset? 
They must be Hamericans, or he 'd never ’ave thought 
of sich a thing as that.” 

About three o’clock on the day appointed, four per- 
sons were seen approaching the house. An old man 
with white hair, and with a well brushed, but thread- 
bare coat; a woman about thirty-two or thirty-three 
years old, tall, erect, and graceful in her carriage, and 
plainly dressed; and a girl of about eighteen, upon 
whose arm the old man leaned as he walked. The girl 
was not handsome; her forehead was low, and her 
teeth irregular ; her stiff, brown hair seemed to defy all 
efforts to smoothe it. They were followed by a negro 
woman who walked closely behind them, and carried a 


CHATTANOOGA. 


287 


bag in her hand that looked like a schoolboy’s satchel. 
Mr. Rashleigh met them at the door, and the servants 
were all astonished to find that these were the expected 
guests, for whom such extensive preparations had been 
made. 

‘‘Well,’’ said Susan, “hif I ’ad known that was hall, 
I ’de ’ave saved myself a deal of trouble.” 

“Don’t talk so girl,” said Huskett, “no body but a 
fool would hexpect any thing else in Hamerica. We ’re 
not in Hold Hengland now, I can hassure you.” 

At the appointed hour dinner was announced, and 
Mr. Rashleigh conducted Mrs. Gilpin, while her grand- 
father leaned on the jirm of Harriet Gilpin, as he went 
to the dining-room The ladies seem to be surprised 
and annoyed by having white persons to wait on them, 
but, with that exception, nothing else seemed to excite 
their especial attention. Mr. Rashleigh ’s servants, as 
far as they could do so without being observed, care- 
fully noticed all their conduct, and were surprised to 
find that people who were so plainly dressed and Hame- 
ricans, did not materially differ in their deportment 
from the ladies they had seen on similar occasions in 
England. 

Mr. Rashleigh amused his guests by relating the in- 
vitation he had recently received to join a slave hunt, 
that, too, in behalf, he said, of a clergyman, and was no 
less amused to find that the invitation had been ex- 
tended to his neighbors. “I felt indignant at first,” he 
said, “ that such a proposal should be made to me, but 
when the people went away, I laughed for half an 
hour at their conduct, and at their strange invitation. 
They really appeared to be sincere, and were, perhaps, 
offended that I refused to join such inhuman conduct.” 


288 


CHATTANOOGA. 


too, was offended,” said Brandon, “that they 
should have the impudence to ask me to take part in 
so low a business. It is very proper for some men to 
do these things, but improper for gentlemen.” 

“Ah, I see,” said Mr. Rashleigh, smiling, “that while 
we agree in the result, we differ in the mode by which 
we reach our respective conclusions. You, I believe, 
are the owners of slaves. I have never felt myself at 
liberty to purchase any.” 

“No, sir,” said Bradon, “I do not own slaves now. 
A few years ago I owned two hundred ; but, by sad 
reverses of fortune, I am deprived of the greater part 
of my property. I think that the system of slaveholding 
is right. Under it we have more chivalrous and refined 
gentlemen and ladies, than can elsewhere be found in 
North America.” 

“That may be true, sir,” said Mr. Rashleigh; “but 
are you sure, my dear, sir, that for the chivalry and 
refinement which, I have no doubt, exists, you are not 
indebted to other causes ? In England, France, and 
Germany, and in every part of Europe, gentlemen may 
be met with who are as highly cultivated, and are as 
pleasant as any in the United States. I am glad that 
you have named this, because it seems to me, to be the 
only argument in favor of the system of slave-holding. 
If there be any force in it, it would seem to follow that 
the society in slave-holding countries must be better 
than that in heaven, as there is no slavery there.” 

“Really, Mr. Rashleigh,” said Mrs. Gilpin, “you 
strike away at one blow our most cherished delusions. 
The argument that my father has just now Urged, has 
always been the one on which my conscience has rested. 

I have thought that the test of good government is the 


CHATTANOOGA. 


289 


i men that it produces, and a country that has, even in 
its infancy, produced such men as Washington, Jef- 
ferson, Madison, and others like them, can not be far 
wrong.” 

‘^Yes, madam; but you, perhaps, have overlooked 
the fact, that each of these men obtained his position 
' and his fame, by his earnest struggles for freedom.” 

The hours passed pleasantly and swiftly away, and 
the little party broke up, happier, and better, and 
wiser, than they were before they met. 

Rashleigh had lived long without society in America, 
and was delighted with his new neighbors. Conversing 
with them he soon forgot the petty troubles in which 
his ruder neighbors had sometimes involved him, and 
looked forward to years of happiness and peace. His 
visits became frequent to Brandon’s. He went there so 
often, and passed so many hours under his roof, that 
I his daily presence became almost a necessity to Mr. 

' Brandon and to his family. I can not do without you, 
Mr. Rashleigh,” he would sometimes remark. ‘‘I 
feared, when I came here, that I had left behind all 
society, except my own family, and am glad to find one 
at least who is a gentleman, here in the wilderness.” 

But, they were alike only in one thing — both of them 
were educated gentlemen. Rashleigh was an ardent 
I Republican from principle. Brandon hated it. 

' Rashleigh’s views were directed, principally, to the 
dignity of man. Brandon’s to the danger of giving 
influence to the uneducated white people ; as for the 
negroes, he seemed never to have thought that they 
were human beings. ‘‘I like Virginia,” he would say, 
“ because a man must have some interest in the welfare 
of the State, and must be a freeholder before he can 
25 


290 


CHATTANOOGA. 


vote. I do not like a government where the rabble 
who have neither property nor character, nor interest 
in the result, can combine under an artful demagogue, 
and control every election, take the government into 
their own hands, and make all who have a real interest 
in it, obey their caprices.” 

You seem to have overlooked the fact, my dear sir,^^ 
said Rashleigh, ^Hhat the man himself is of greater 
value than all the property in the State, and that the 
first object of all government should be to protect man 
in his rights.” 

‘‘That maybe so; but they are constantly abusing 
their power,” said Brandon. 

“ Men do so every where, whether educated or une- 
ducated, and in all forms of government,” said Rash- 
leigh. “ They have been corrupt in all ages and in all 
parts of the world, and no change in the form of gov- 
ernment or in the mode of administering it, or in the 
persons by whom it may be conducted, can alter that 
great fact in the condition of humanity. Your objec- 
tion lies against the innate depravity of the heart of man. 
Education may smoothe the surface, but it never has 
changed, and never can change, what lies deeply buried 
in the heart.” 


CHAPTEK XXXYI. 


One day Corliss took down his rifle and started out 
to hunt. Some impulse, for which he could assign no 
cause, led him on and on to the west, away from the 
mountains and down into the settlement of the whites. 
It was a strange place to hunt. What game could be 
found there worthy of his rifle ? 

He was walking along a narrow path in deep thought — 
thought of his past life, and how sadly it had been wasted, 
when he almost ran against a man coming slowly toward 
him on horseback, and he stepped from the path, sur- 
prised that he had not seen the animal before. The 
rider too was half alarmed, and as much surprised, as 
he said, I am sorry, sir, that I have been so careless. 
Indeed I was not observing which way I was riding.’* 
Mr. Brandon said, Corliss.’* 

Yes, sir.** 

‘‘ Do you not know me? ’* 

Brandon looked attentively at him. ^^I do know 
you. Begone, never let me see your face again.** 

“ These are high words, sir. But who has given you 
leave thus to address me.’* 

“ Silence, knave,” said Brandon, trembling with rage, 
silence, and begone.” 

“ Ah, these are great swelling words to be addressed 
by an old man to a hunter with a rifle in his hand.*’ 
Rifle ! — your rifle ! — you want to assassinate me. 
Do it at once, without another word from your foul 
(291). 


292 


CHATTANOOGA. 


lips. I am here alone, and unarmed, an old man in 
the midst of dark woods ; no eye but that of God rests 
upon us. Shoot,’’ and turned his breast fully before 
him, and opening his vest, shoot, my heart is here,” 
laying his hand on his heart. 

‘‘Mr. Brandon, it is useless to talk so — you know 
that I am neither an assassin nor a coward. You are 
acting ungenerously, in thus reproaching me, when you 
know that we are not on equal terms. You can upbraid, 
when I, who have just cause to censure you, must be 
silent. This is neither generous nor just.’' 

“I have not sought you,” said Brandon, “nor fol- 
lowed you ; you have thrust yourself before me. All 
that I ask is that you leave me at once and forever." 

“ I shall leave you now, sir, but make no promise 
for my future conduct. You are entitled to none. 
As for this meeting, it is an accident on my part. I 
did not know that you were out of Virginia." 

They parted. Brandon rode slowly and sadly to his 
home, and Corliss wandered through the woods until 
the sun set, and then wearily and heavily returned to 
his hut. 

“Father,” said Mrs. Gilpin, as Brandon dismounted 
his horse, “are you sick ? You are pale and feeble!” 

“ No, daughter, no. I am very weary. Tell Sam 
to put my horse in the field, and I will lie down and 
rest. He laid upon his bed, faint and sick, muttering 
incoherent words at night for a week, and then came 
out sadder and more feeble than they had ever seen 
him before. 

Bashleigh’s visits were too frequent, and his atten- 
tions to Mrs. Gilpin too marked to escape notice. He 
was no longer the dreaming enthusiast, poring over old 


CHATTANOOGA. 


293 


books, while the sun was shining brightly on fresh 
flowers, and the birds were all singing merrily. Life 
had now a new charm. His steps were brisker and his 
eye brighter, and his hand firmer than it had been be- 
fore. He forgot his dreams, his theories, and his books, 
in the charming society of the young widow, who smiled, 
and laughed, and when — alone — wept. 

‘‘Father,” said Mrs. Gilpin, “do tell him all. Let 
us not compromise our honor by withholding any truth 
which it is right he should know. Tell him that I 
am not a widow ; that so far as we know, my unworthy 
and depraved husband yet lives. 

“I do not see the use, my daughter, of telling him 
things that may distress him, without materially alter- 
ing your position. You have been married; you have 
no lawful husband now ; your hand and your heart are 
both free to be bestowed at your own pleasure upon 
any object worthy of your choice. We have already 
had our full share of grief by the conduct of the man 
who once swore at the altar that he would live to make 
you happy. Why pour the bitterness of our own cup 
into another’s wine? ” 

“ Yes, father, that may be true. Holy scripture and 
law both sanction my separation and divorce. I am 
free, thankfully free ; but honor, a nice sense of pro- 
priety requires, in my judgment, that the gentleman 
who solicits my hand should accurately know my posi- 
tion.” 

“ My dear child, Mr. Rashleigh is an accomplished 
gentleman, and honorable as our house has always been, 
an alliance with him would at any time be desirable. 
Now it is — ” He paused and did not finish the sen- 
tence. 


294 


CHATTANOOGA. 


know it; we have been rich, and are poor, 
and are now half dependent upon our relations, who, 
perhaps,^’ said Mrs. Gilpin, with a sigh, ‘^feel that we 
burden them. But, father, strong as the inducement 
may be to conceal the truth, is it not our duty, our 
duty,’^ she repeated, with emphasis upon the word, ‘‘to 
tell him frankly — all.^’ 

“ With all his good qualities and principles, my child, 
he has, as all men have, prejudices and caprices, which, 
for aught we know, may control his conduct even in 
important matters. He should know all, but it is bet- 
ter, in my judgment, that the full disclosures you speak 
of should be postponed until your happiness — our hap- 
piness, my child, shall be secured.’' 

“It is for that very reason, father, that I am so 
anxious the matter shall be fully disclosed to him. His 
caprices and prejudices are part of himself, and alfect 
his happiness. I fear that it is dishonorable to go on. 
If you are not willing to do so, I must do it and relieve 
my conscience. 

“ Martha, I shall not attempt to constrain you. You 
have always been controlled since your early childhood 
solely by your own views of propriety. But your 
father asks you to be cautious — to be cautious. You 
may in one moment draw darker clouds of sorrow 
around the setting sun of your father’s life.” 

“ Oh, father!” said Mrs. Gilpin, half sobbing, “ what 
shall I do?” 

“ Say nothing more about it, neither to me or to any 
one else, unil I have deliberated fully upon it, and then 
I will tell you the result. Leave the matter for a few 
days with me.” 

“ I will, father.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


295 


Oh ! ” said Mrs. Gilpin, as she rose from her seat, 

that old predicted curse that has so long settled upon 
our house and blasted our fortunes, seems to follow us 
wherever we go.” 

‘‘Nonsense, daughter. The old prediction was no- 
thing but the dream of a crazy fanatic. Our misfor- 
tunes have proceeded from natural causes, and might 
have been averted if we had been wiser.’’ 

“Perhaps so, father, but whenever I think of it it 
makes me sad.” 

“ Such things do always sadden even the best and 
wisest of men. I do not wonder that ladies, whose 
nerves have been shaken as often as yours have, my 
poor dear child, are full of sorrow when they think of 
them. They are the delusions of fear. God only 
knows the future.” 

“True, very true, father, but God can disclose the 
future through any agency he may choose to employ. 
Sometimes he does so by dreams, at other times, by 
impressions, more or less vivid; sometimes by signs, 
which half explain themselves and shadow forth the 
fact to be foretold, and sometimes by the mouths of 
persons, good or evil, who are generally themselves 
more than half unconscious that they are speaking out 
of themselves and of the spirit that moves them.” 

“Ah, child, I see that you have not forgotten the 
education which your good old Quaker aunt gave 
you. These doctrines are, however, peculiar to that 
sect.” 

“ Oh, no, father, the Moravians, the Methodists, and 
indeed all Protestant Christians, in the lives of their 
eminently religious persons, indirectly or directly teach 
them. The truth compels them to do so.” 


CHAPTER XXXYII. 


^^And so,” said Susan, ‘^our master is going to be 
married, and to ban Hamerican woman. Who could 
have believed that a gentleman, han Hinglish gentle- 
man who has been hassociated Avith lords and ladies in 
Hingland, would 'ave come out here in the wild woods, 
and git married to han Hamerican woman.” 

‘‘Child,” said Thomas Jinks, “you know nothing at 
all about men. I knoAved a gentleman in Hingland who 
had forty thousand pounds a year, and married his 
^ouskeeper. When a man, forty years old, falls in love, 
there ’s no knoAving Avhat he Avill do — they ^re w^orse 
than an old widow falling in love with a young man.” 

“I’ve read,” said Susan, “about that afore, Thomas; 
but it is strange our master should fancy sich a woman 
as that is, he is going marry. She is not 'ansome, and 
dresses so badly, and is very poor. He must be crazy. 
I declare I will not serve another day in this ’ouse after 
she comes into it.” 

“What Avill you do, Susan?” 

“I’ve been talking to John Huskett about it, and 
we ’ve made up hour minds to leave on the very day of 
the w’edding, and go out and get a school, and teach 
the young Hamericans to talk Hinglish. John Huskett 
says he ’ll get a great college, and lecture on horno- 
thology.” 

. “ Ah, well, child, you are well qualified for sich hem- 
ployment, and will make a vortune by it. If I can’t get 
( 296 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


297 


along well, sure, I ’ll get a school too, and teach part 
of them the Hinglish language, and coach driving. I 
will make a vortune by it.” 

Mr. Rashleigh was still assiduous in his attentions 
to Mrs. Gilpin. A gentleman who has been accustomed 
in early life to the society of refined and well educated 
women, and is afterward placed in a position where he 
is deprived of such society, relishes it with keener zest, 
and enjoys it with higher appreciation, than others who 
have not been deprived of it. In the society of Mrs. 
Gilpin, Rashleigh thought of the days in England, when 
he was surrounded by ladies then young, and who were 
as refined and pleasant as she, and half sighed when he 
thought he had made himself half a hermit, and half a 
martyr for his political opinions. But now he had met 
with one in a republican country, who was as agreeable 
and refined as any that he had left, and he looked for- 
ward to a long life of happiness with her.” 

He was surprised to find that Mr. Brandon was not 
a Republican — at least in the sense in which he under- 
stood the term. When he came to America, he thought 
he would find in every man that he met with, full sym- 
pathy with his own feelings on that subject, and an 
intelligent appreciation of the theory of the govern- 
ment of the States of America. 

Brandon believed that the American Revolution was 
right, and was grateful to the men who had suffered in 
the struggle, and brought it to a successful result. But 
always on the ground, that it is unfit for a gentleman 
to be taxed by men whom he had not elected, and em- 
ployed to do so. “A gentleman,” he said, ‘‘should be 
free, and suffer no man to touch his purse or his person 
without his consent- -the one is robbery, the other 


298 


CHATTANOOGA. 


desecration. As for the lower classes of white people/' 
he said, as soon as they shall be qualified to discharge 
the duties of electors, no one, I am sure, will more 
cheerfully than myself, be willing to extend to them 
the right of suffrage, and even to place some of the 
more intelligent of them in offices of profit and honor. 
But these blessings,'' he continued, as all others, 
must be won by their industry, intelligence and virtue. 
It is dangerous to trust the whole of our government, 
and, therefore, any part of that whole in the hands of 
persons incompetent to administer it." 

‘^Do you not think," said Rashleigh, “that the right 
of suffrage is a shield to protect men from oppres- 
sion?" 

“ It is both a shield and a sword. They can not 
wield the sword in their blindness without hazard to 
their friends and the state. They do not need the 
shield, because those who are elected have no interest 
in oppressing them, and honor, and conscience alike for- 
bid them to do so." 

“Alas, sir," said Rashleigh, “honor and conscience 
in all ages, and among all nations, have always proved 
too feeble to protect a defenseless class from the ag- 
gressions of those in power. All history teaches this 
lesson." 

“European history may teach it; but, I assure you, 
sir, it is different in America." 

“No, sir," said Rashleigh, “the heart of man is 
every where the same, and is always ‘Prone to evil as 
the sparks to fly upward.’ " 

The preparations for the wedding went on rapidly. 
The day was near at hand, and yet Brandon had not 
disclosed the exact position of his family to Rashleigh. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


299 


He did not withhold it from any purpose to deceive 
him, but the subject was disagreeable, and he, therefore, 
rather from infirmity of purpose, than any other cause, 
postponed it. 

“Ah!” said Norton, after his return from an elec- 
tioneering tour, “ that Englishman is yet in the neigh- 
borhood with his retinue of servants ?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Tom Giles, to whom his remark was 
addressed, “Yes, sir, he’s thar yet, and I suppose he 
means to stay thar, for he ’s gwine to get married?” 

“Married! to whom?” 

“ To that young widow woman what is with the new 
comer, Mr. Brandon — she ’s his darter, I believe.” 

“ Are you not mistaken ? Can it be possible ?” 

“No; it’s as sure as shootin’. They are fixin’ things 
for the weddin’ this blessed day. It will come off day 
arter to-morrow. It would have been all over afore 
this, only both of ’em wants a Tiscopal preacher to 
marry ’em, and have sent way off to get one. They 
can’t put up with a Methodist or Baptist like other 
people.” 

“Well, we’ll see whether it ever comes off or not. 
I have learned a thing or two, and you know when the 
boys wanted to tar and feather the aristocrat, last win- 
ter, I said, Geave it to me.’ They did so, and now 
they ’ll see that I am on their side and worthy of their 
votes. 

“ What’s in the wind, captain?” said Tom Giles. 

“ You shall know, neighbor, in due time, but not 
now. If the boys here don’t have more fun than 
they ’ve ever had, I ’m mistaken for once in my life — 
that’s all. Are you sure that it is Brandon’s daughter 
he is to marry — and not the grand daughter? ” 


300 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Captain, it is the widow, as sure as shootin’. ’’ 

The widow, eh ? well, we 'll see, neighbor Giles. 
Keep dark, or you ’ll spoil the fun/' 

You may trust that 'eer to me, Captain. Tom Giles 
knows when he ought to speak and when he ought to 
keep his mouth shut.” 

‘‘ Neighbor Giles, take this silver dollar, and go out 
early to-morrow morning with your rifle. If you see 
a deer, of course you will shoot it and hang it up on a 
tree until you come back. Then, if in the course of your 
travels you happen to fall in with any of the Indians, 
ask for a man named Corliss, a white man, and if you 
do happen to see him, give my respects to him and tell 
him that Mr. Norton would like to see him. Take no- 
tice that I don 't send you for him ; but if that man is 
not at my house by to-morrow night wo 'll have no 
fun.'' 

‘‘Very well. Captain, Tom Giles understands you — 
trust it to him.” 

“And, Tom Giles, do not drop a hint to any man, 
woman, or child, white, black, or Indian, about this 
wedding ; if you do, you will spoil the greatest piece 
of fun that we have ever had west of the Cumberland 
mountains.” 

“ Trust that to me. Captain — Tom Giles is no fool.” 

Early the next day Giles took down his rifle and 
wandered out. In a few hours he was near the Chero- 
kee encampment, and met one of the Indians. 

“Good day, neighbor,” said Giles — “glad to see 
you.'’ 

“Augh!” said the Indian, “me no glad see white 
man, out here with rifle. You no right kill deer 
here.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


301 


I Ve killed no deer and don ’t want to. Do you 
know a white man named Corliss/' 

‘‘Yes, we, long time ago, call him ‘big drunk’ ” — 
Good man now — Grey Eagle marry his daughter — he 
rich man now — very poor when he come here five, six 
years ago. Rich man now — live in a hut close by 
Grey Eagle, and his little grand-son play there all 
day long. Go there — you find him easy.’' 

“ Thank you, neighbor, good mornin'. 

“ Augh ! ’' said the Indian, and left him. 

Giles found Corliss at the place, and told him that 
Norton wished to see him before sunset. 

“ What does he want with me ? I don ’t know him 
and never saw him." 

“ I can’t tell," said Giles, “ but I believe it’s mighty 
perticular business ; and if you don 't go, you’ll rue it 
as long as you live.’' 

“ Grey Eagle is not here, and I have the charge of 
his business, while he is away. I do not see how I can 
go there. " 

“ W ell, you may be sure it ’s mighty perticular busi- 
ness, or else I would never have come so fur to tell 
you.” 

While they were talking. Grey Eagle’s little son, 
about four years old, ran up to his grandfather. • “ Come, 
Willie,'’ said the old man, taking him on his knee, 
sing one of your fine songs to our neighbor here, who 
has come to see us.’' 

The child sang a little scotch song, lisping the words 
as he did so, and his grandfather patted him on his 
cheek, and told him he was a good boy. 

The child ran to the outstretched arms of Tom Giles 
and leaped upon his knee. 


302 


CHATTANOOaA. 


What ’s your name, my little man ? said Giles. 

Willie.’^ 

Whar ’s your mother ? 

‘‘ She ’s in her cabin making me a new cap, and put- 
ting feathers in it that will hang down so, (drawing 
his hand down the back of his head) and look so 
pretty. There 's three red ones and two white ones ; 
and it's most done.’^ 

Giles looked earnestly at the boy and rose to go 
away. 

Shall I tell him you '11 be thar, Mr. Corliss? ’’ 

“Yes, I’ll go, though I do not know what he wants 
with me. Ic may be business of importance, as he is a 
candidate for the legislature. 

Before sunset Corliss rode upon an Indian pony to 
Norton's house. It was the first time for five, six, or 
seven years, that he had entered a white man's dwell- 
ing, and he sighed as he did so, and thought sadly 
of other and perhaps better days. 

Other thoughts, too, crowded into his mind as he 
looked at the window shaded by the cinnamon rose bush, 
near the porch, and as his eye hastily glanced at the 
little room it shaded. 


CHAPTEE XXXYIII. 


After a calm, sweet day, the servants of Brandon, 
neatly dressed, the women with their heads tied np in 
kerchiefs that resembled turbans, all gathered into the 
little purlor, and stood in the corners of the room. The 
servants of Eashleigh, the men dressed in heavy, black 
coats of broadcloth, and the women in garments better 
suited to mid-winter than to summer, came in, and were 
quietly seated m chairs made of unpainted wood, and 
seated with hides, with the hair on. All was still, and 
in a few minutes the clergyman appeared, with a prayer- 
book in his hand, and then came out the bridegroom 
and bride, accompanied by the father and daughter.” 

At the words, ‘‘ If any man hath aught to say, why 
this man and this woman shall not be united in the 
holy bonds of matrimony, let him speak now,” A man 
entered the door, and said, I have this to say — The 
woman is my wife,’' — and loud shouts were heard from 
a multitude of people out of doors. 

‘‘Your wife?” said the clergyman. 

“Yes, sir, my lawfully wedded wife, and that girl,” 
pointing to the daughter, “ is my child !” 

Eashleigh looked at Mrs. Gilpin, who stood, still hold- 
ing his hand, trembling and pale, and silent, and then 
at her father 

Brandon was embarrassed and silent. The servants 
were all standing with a few neighbors, who had becA 
invited to witness the ceremony, around the parties. 

( 303 ) 


304 


CHATTANOOGA. 


How is this ?’^ said Rashleigh, after a pause. 

Brandon tried to speak, but could not. Mrs. Gilpin 
then said: ‘‘He was my husband, but he abandoned 
me, and became the companion of a negro slave, and 
the father of four of her children. I obtained a divorce 
from him for that cause.’’ 

“ It is false,” said Corliss. “ She is not divorced, but 
my own lawfully wedded wife. Let her show the re- 
cord, if she has such, and that will settle the matter at 
once.” 

“That can easily be done,” said Brandon. “I have 
a copy of it in my desk, and will produce it immedi- 
ately.” 

He went for it, and returned pale and trembling. 
“It is gone,” he said — “it is gone !” 

“ It never was there. Go on with the ceremony, if 
you dare, sir,” he said, addressing the clergyman, “ go 
on at your peril.” He left the house, and other shouts 
of derision, louder than before, accompanied with whoops 
and yells, followed each other in rapid succession, 
until the voices could no longer be heard. 

The servants of Mr. Rashleigh quickly withdrew, and 
went to their home. Those of Mr. Brandon lingered, 
until a gesture from Mrs. Gilpin bade them leave. 

The neighbors expressed their regret at the unsea- 
sonable interruption, and their confidence that all would 
be rightly explained in a few days, and then they would 
see the parties happily married. 

Mr. Brandon was pale and trembling. Rashleigh 
was polite and cold. He listened indeed to the expla- 
nation of Brandon and Mrs. Gilpin, but made no remark. 
Their was an air of offended dignity upon his brow, and 
a cold haughtiness in his manner. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


305 


After half an hour he invited the clergyman to accom- 
pany him, and bowed to Mrs. Gilpin, to her daughter, 
and to Mr. Brandon. They left the house — left it filled 
with sorrow and gloom. 

‘‘ Oh, father,’^ said Mrs. Gilpin, as soon as they 
went away. ‘‘Oh, my dear father, why did you not 
; tell Mr. Rashleigh the whole truth?’' 

“ My daughter, I really intended to do so, but put it 
off from time to time, until the preparation for the wed- 
ding caused me to overlook it." 

“I have no doubt, father, of your good intentions; 
but I would long ago have told him all, if you had per- 
mitted me to do so.’’ 

“ I am sorry, my dear child. I alone am to blame, 
and am the- cause of your grief and misfortune, but I 
meant no wrong." 

“I am sure you did not, father." 

; “Do not be grieved, my child. We have the license, 
i and the clergyman is yet in the neighborhood. The 
* copy of the record has, perhaps, been mislaid. I can 
I not find it, but it will, I hope, be found to-morrow." 

I “Why do you think so? Have you ever taken it 
out of your desk since we moved here?’’ 

“No, Martha. It was carefully wrapped up and 
labelled on the outside. I saw it but a week ago." 
i| “No one ever sees the inside of your desk, father, 
but yourself. How, then, can it be misplaced?" 

“There must have been some foul-play in this trans- 
' action. Every paper, and all the little stock of bank 
notes, and gold that I have in the desk, are just as 
they were yesterday when I opened it. This paper 
only is gone." 

Mrs. Gilpin leaned her head on her father’s shoulder, 
26 


806 


CHATTANOOGA. 


and sobbed, Oh. father! that curse — that heavy, heavy 
curse — that has settled on our house, has followed us 
here, and will go with us to the verge of our graves.^' 
‘^It would seem so, Martha. I fear it is so. All 
things work together for our evil.’' 

“Yes, father, God is against us, and let us do as we 
may, man can not help us." 


CHAPTEK XXXIX. 


The next day was passed in diligently searching for 
the copy of the record. All were engaged in the 
search, and every place was examined : it could not he 
found. True, another copy could be procured, but the 
record was in Virginia, and it would take perhaps a 
month to get it, and the mails too were irregular, and 
the document was too valuable now to hazard any un- 
certain conveyance. 

After an evening’s deliberation with his family, 
Brandon determined to go to Virginia for another 
copy. His honor and that of his family had been 
assailed ; his own veracity was disputed. He lay 
under grievous imputations of foul wrong, and he de- 
termined at once to relieve himself from their pressure. 
Old and feeble as he was, and ill-able to bear the ex- 
pense of such a journey, and unwilling to leave his 
daughter and grand-daughter with no other protection 
than the slaves about his place, he made preparations 
for his immediate departure. 

Another day came and they received no call, no 
message, no note from Mr. Rashleigh. On the third 
day, Brandon took his cane and walked over to Rash- 
leigh’s. He was politely, but coldly received. 

“ I have come, sir,” he said, with some embarrass- 
ment, ‘‘to talk over this matter with you.” 

“ Have you the alleged document ? Mr. Brandon.” 

( 307 ) 


308 


CHATTANOOGA. 


‘^No, sir. We have diligently searched for it, and 
can not find it. It must have been stolen.’* 

Perhaps so, sir. Have you any thing more to tell 
me than you and Mrs. Gilpin have already told me ? 

‘‘No, sir, except to add, that my daughter, a month 
ago, urged me to tell you her exact situation. I in- 
tended to do so, but put it ofi* from day to day, until 
the hurry of preparation for the wedding drove it from 
my mind.” 

“ That is very unfortunate, sir. I really wish you 
had done so, or what would have been better, that Mrs. 
Gilpin had told me. It would have saved me much 
mortification and unhappiness.” 

“ The fault is solely mine,” said Brandon, “ or rather 
the misfortune.” 

“ You burden yourself with an undue share of guilt,” 
said Kashleigh. As for the misfortune, as you call it, 
I think that I am the deepest sulFerer. I frankly told 
Mrs. Gilpin, before I solicited her hand, every thing 
that could possibly interest her respecting myself, my 
family, my fortune, my habits, and my hopes. I felt 
myself bound in conscience to do so. I was even more 
explicit and more careful than I would have been in 
England, if I had there solicited the hand of a lady, 
because there much in the history of families is ac- 
cessible to the parties, and is presumed to be known, 
that can not readily be had here, unless from the par- 
ties themselves.” 

Brandon sighed. “I assure you, sir, the case is as I 
have stated it, and I shall start on a journey to Vir- 
ginia this very day for another copy of the record. I 
will return in two or three weeks. 

“And what then ? ” said Rashleigh.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


809 


I will show it to you if you wish to see it.’’ 

‘‘I do not know what my wishes may be when you 
shall have returned, sir. At present I am quite 
careless about it, and I hope you will not encounter 
any such journey for the purpose of gratifying my 
curiosity.” 

‘‘I will do it,” said Brandon, ^‘to remove the seeming 
impediment to your marriage with my daughter.” 

That would be giving yourself much trouble for no 
valuable purpose. You say that Mrs. Gilpin is di- 
vorced. I have no reason to discredit your statement.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir, she is divorced.” 

Yes,” said Rashleigh, apparently speaking to him- 
self, shaking his head as he did so, she is divorced — 
divorced — divorced. The wretch who was her husband, 
and who abandoned her for a negress, by whom he had 
a brood of mullato children, yet lives. I have seen 
him, and heard him — claims her as his wife.” 

Brandon sighed. I see, Mr. Rashleigh, how greatly 
I have erred, and am very sorry for the wrongs I have 
brought upon you and my daughter. But I will go to 
Virginia and got another copy of the record in ques- 
tion, and if you wish to see it you shall do so, if it be 
only to relieve myself from charges that the wretch has 
made against me.” 

‘‘ I assure you it is wholly useless to take such a 
journey for my sake. The record, if produced, would 
only prove what I am too well assured of now — that 
Mrs. Gilpin is a divorced woman — not a widow.” 

Brandon returned to his home and told his daughter 
and grand daughter all that had been said by Rashleigh 
and himself. We will draw a veil over their sorrows. 
We could not describe them if we would. 


310 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Oh, father ! said Mrs. Gilpin, as she retired to 
rest, “ how can we get rid of the curse that so long — 
so long — without a day of intermission, has pursued us, 
like the avenging angel of God. That old prophecy 
of evil to our house, is true — too true. 

‘‘ My child, God is merciful, and there is forgiveness 
with him. He does visit the sins of the fathers upon 
their children to the third and fourth generation ; but 
he shows mercy to thousands of those that love him and 
keep his commandments. Let us look to IIiM for for- 
giveness for the past and help for the future. He can 
bring good out of evil and light out of darkness. Let 
us look humbly to Him. 


CHAPTEK XL. 


On the afternoon of the same day, Brandon, with a 
heavy heart, started on horseback on his long and weary 
journey to Virginia. He left his farm in the care of 
his daughter and the slaves. The hope of his speedy 
return, and the value of his mission, relieved their 
hearts of a large share of the grief which his absence 
would otherwise have caused them. 

Soon after he crossed the Roanoak, he dismounted, 
and kissed the soil of his native State, and said, ‘‘The 
Old Dominion, God bless her forever.’' 

When he got to his native county, kind friends 
greeted him, and welcomed his return. After a few 
days of rest, he prepared to start to his own home ; but 
new difficulties awaited him. Many years before he 
had, at the request of a neighbor, an old friend, become 
his surety in an executor's bond for the faithful dis- 
charge of his duties to some minor heirs. He had for- 
gotten the matter; but his friend was now dead, and it 
was alleged that he had squandered the money of his 
wards. A suit was brought against Brandon as surety, 
and he was arrested and imprisoned for the debt. The 
old man meekly yielded to his fate, and could but 
think, as he entered the gloomy walls of the prison, of 
the curse which his daughter had so often said clung to 
the family wherever they went. He sent the copy of 
the record to his daughter by mail, with a letter in 
which he stated his arrest, and that he was assured, by 

( 311 ) 


312 


CHiTTANOOGA. 


his lawyer, that he would be detained but a few days, 
and would then, of course, return. 

He could, indeed, have made an assignment of his 
property, and been relieved at once. But he believed 
that the demand was unjust, and had too much confi- 
dence in the integrity of his deceased friend, for whom 
he was surety, to think, for a moment, that he had 
appropriated the estate of his wards to his own use. 
He, therefore, determined to contest the demand. 
After a short delay in prison, he was released from 
its walls, but detained within the prison limits. 
The boundaries extended his walks a square or two 
around the jail. He could not pass over these limits 
as it would render his own sureties liable for the 
alleged debt. 

In two weeks Mrs. Gilpin received the record and 
the letter, and its contents renewed and deepened their 
sadness. Their little farm, the greater part of which 
was yet a forest, afforded them a scanty support. 
His lawyers, he said, told him that he should be 
present at the trial in which the whole remnant of his 
property was involved, but he could not state when the 
case would be decided, A burden which Mrs. Gilpin 
had never borne, now fell upon her — the care of the 
farm, and the maintenance of the family, and she 
summoned all her energies to discharge her new 
duties. 

A young man, who was about to keep school in the 
neighborhood, applied to her for boarding. At first 
she was surprised that such an application should 
be made ; but, after she had deliberated for a day or 
two, she consented, and Paul Hunter modestly seated 
himself at their table. He was about twenty-five years 


CHATTANOOGA. 


313 


old, with brown hair and blue eyes, quiet, retiring and 
modest, well educated, and still a diligent student, and 
courteous and kind to all. He came from the State of 
New York, and intended to return as soon as he could 
earn money enough, as teacher, to discharge a debt he 
had incurred at college. He came in the evening after 
walking two miles from the school-house, and went to 
his room and his studies as soon as his supper was over, 
and showed no disposition to be other than a boarder 
for a short time in the family. 

The greater part of the neighbors were strangers to 
them, and all laughed at their calamity, and looked 
upon Mrs. Gilpin as an imposter. And then, too, their 
father, in his old age, wearied with his long journey, 
and feeble in health, was in jail for a debt, the payment 
of which would take all his property. Mrs. Gilpin had 
purchased and paid for all the slaves on the place, by 
means of a legacy in the will of a distant relation. 
But the farm was her father’s. It was his all, and if that 
was sold, they would be without a home. The effort 
to appear cheerful was abandoned, and the mother and 
daughter yielded to the pressure of the tide of sorrow. 
Mr. Rashleigh knew nothing of their misfortune. They 
had not seen him since the sad day which had been ap- 
pointed for the marriage. Another and another letter 
came from their father, as week after week rolled 
heavily away ; but each letter was less cheerful than 
the one received before it, and the confidence of Bran- 
don’s speedy release and return, was less firmly ex- 
pressed. 

After a few days the increased security which 
they felt from Paul Hunter’s presence, and the many 
little attentions which he so cheerfully paid them, 
27 


814 


CHATTANOOGA. 


his pleasant manners, and intelligent conversation, 
made him a welcome guest. His attentions increased 
as their reserve wore off, and after awhile he went 
less early to his room, and his studies, and sat with 
them in the evening in cheerful conversation on the 
porch. 


CHAPTEE XLI. 


Mr. Brandon found greater diflSculties and more 
delays in his lawsuit than at first he expected. The 
accounts of his deceased friend were complicated, and 
had been badly kept, and the eminent counsel he had 
employed to aid him were so much engaged in other 
cases, that it appeared to him they had but little time 
to attend to his. Weeks and months passed away. 
The court sat, and the parties not being ready, the • 
trial was postponed for several months. He became 
sad and impatient. It seemed, too, that the heirs of 
the estate, who were originally interested, had assigned 
their claim to some unknown person who was merci- 
lessly endeavoring to make as large a profit as possible 
from the transaction. 

His letters became less frequent and more sad. The 
old friends who were always glad to see him, and sym- 
pathized with him, could not stay within the prison 
limits — their homes were in the country; and after 
short conversations, they had to leave him. The peo- 
ple in the village were not those with whom, in the 
days of his prosperity he had been accustomed to asso- 
ciate. Their tastes and manners were different from 
his. He walked silently every fair day from his hum- 
ble boarding house to the limits within which he was 
restrained, and gazed at the blue sky and the distant 
fields, and woods beyond them, and then went slowly 
back. He had been rich, and now was poor and 
( 316 ) 


316 


CHATTANOOGA. 


dependent. Poverty stared him in the face. He could 
have borne it without a murmur if he only was the 
sufferer. But his daughter and grand-daughter, what 
would become of them ? They could not labor. They 
knew no useful employment, and had always been 
taught, taught by himself, that labor is degrading. 

‘‘And who,’’ he said, “is the unknown claimant in 
this action ? Who is so hardly pressing it and en- 
deavoring by all means in hfs power to extort from me 
the last dollar that I have for the maintenance of my- 
self and my family — to take my last acre of land and 
turn me and mine homeless and penniless, in old age, 
upon the world ? ” 

He had accused his overseer of injustice and fraud, 
and quarrelled with him many years before, and with 
that exception he had passed through life in peace with 
all men. But the overseer, although he had become 
comparatively rich, had moved out of the State, he knew 
not where, and he had heard that he was dead. He, 
therefore, could not be the person who had raked up 
this old claim and was sq^eing in the name of others for it. 

His letters from home were full of grief, but also 
assured him that his family were getting along very 
well, much better than they would have dared to hope, 
before necessity made it their duty to exert themselves 
for their support. All the clamor that had been raised 
in the neighborhood against Mrs. Gilpin had subsided, 
and seemed, so far as they could judge, to be forgotten. 
But not one of them made any allusion to Rashleigh. 
It was plain that he had not resumed his visits to 
Brandon’s house. If he ever intended to do so, he 
surely would now when the hearts of all the family 
were filled with grief. 


CHATTANOOGii. 


317 


Brandon knew Corliss had left the State a year be- 
fore his daughter’s petition for divorce had been pre- 
sented to the court, and by some process of law he had 
notice of it. He now learned that the only notice wa,s 
by means of an advertisement in a newspaper which 
Corliss probably had never seen or heard of. This 
increased his grief, because he knew, from the obstinate 
character of Corliss, he would assert his claims without 
intermission so long as he believed he was sustained by 
the law. His clothing needed replenishing, and his 
little stock of money was slowly ebbing away. His 
friends knew him too well to offer him assistance, un- 
less he should first invite their aid, and the hope of 
repaying them was so dull that he would not venture 
to borrow. He sat day by day in his little chamber, 
with both hands on the top of his cane, and leaned his 
head upon them, and thought of the present, of the 
future, and of the past — sometimes of the old prophecy 
that troubled his daughter, but which he, till recently, 
heard with a smile. 

Can man foretell the future? No. But can God 
make man his agent to foretell it? Yes. He has 
done so, and can do so again if he will. But if calamity 
come on his house by the will of God, acting indeed 
through natural agencies, are^ there no means to turn 
away his displeasure? Will he not forgive? Yes. 
And he looked up with hope. 


CHAPTER XLII. 


When Paul Hunter left his home in the State of 
New York, he determined that wherever his lot should 
be cast, in any of the Southern States, he would devote 
himself to his business as teacher and to self-improvement, 
and avoid all society as far as he, with propriety, could 
do so. He was going there only to make a litile money 
more readily than he could at home, and would then 
gladly return to his native State. Why should he then 
form attachments which, of course, would result in 
nothing more than the diversion of his time from more 
important pursuits ? When he did think of marrying 
at all, his thoughts were always associated with a black 
eyed little cousin, who laughed at him, and romped 
with him, and with others, but he had never fallen in 
love with her, and of course, had never said a word to 
her that would imply that he had done so. 

His purpose was still fixed, but he could not see that 
he would depart from it in the least, if he sat with the 
ladies on the porch, and cheered them as far as he could 
by his conversation. His studies — was he not tired by 
the labors of the day ? And was it not injurious to his 
nervous system, and to his eyes, to pursue them by the 
light of a lamp ? He would retire early to rest, and go 
on with them in the morning, before the family were 
awake, and while his mind was clear and fresh. He 
did so for a few days, and found the change of great 
service. When the clock struck nine, he rose and bade 
( 318 ) 


CHi^TTANOOGA. 


319 


the ladies good night. But very soon the clock struck 
when he was in the midst of conversation, which was 
too charming to be suddenly broken off, and very soon 
he did not hear it strike at all. The clock still ticked 
in its place on the mantle-piece, and Paul Hunter 
wondered why he did not hear it. The family soon 
became as early risers as himself, and after a little 
while Paul found breakfast waiting for him. He re- 
ceived a letter from his sister, informing him that the 
bright eyed girl, of whom he so often thought, was mar- 
ried, and had started on a bridal tour to Europe. He 
read the letter with a sigh, and put it in his trunk. 
That dream was over. 

The ladies were delighted with him. At first he was 
but a schoolmaster of good morals, from New York, 
and recommended to the attention of those whom he 
might meet with by letters, from a well known and 
highly honorable gentleman of that State. 

Now, they found that humble as his position seemed 
to be, he was a gentleman, modest and retiring, even 
bashful, well educated, and refined in his manners. 
They learned that he was related to some of the ancient 
families in his native State, whose names are historical. 
His blood was as honorable and as gentle as that of the 
best families in Virginia. He did not seem to care for 
it; his pedigree, he said, was of little importance. His 
conduct would unmake or make him. 

It seemed, too, that his parents, and many of his re- 
lations were rich, but that he would not call upon his 
father for aid, and determined to support himself. 

When Paul Hunter first took up his school, he re- 
mained in the school-house after it was dismissed, pre- 
paring for the duties of the next day, and sometimes 


320 


CHATTANOOGA. 


reading from some book which he kept in his desk, and 
would then slowly loiter home, stopping from time to 
time to look at the beautiful plumage of some bird that 
flitted before him from tree to tree, or to examine some 
plant or flower, or shrub, which he had never seen in 
his native State. But now he kept no book for private 
reading in his desk, and saw neither birds, nor shrubs, 
nor trees, nor flowers, with which he was not already 
acquainted, and hurried home with rapid pace as soon 
as school was dismissed. 

At first, too. they sat in the evenings on the porch, 
and all took part in the conversation. The labors of 
the day had been exercise enough for the health of 
each, and they were glad to sit, and talk, and rest, when 
these labors were over. But Paul Hunter thought that 
his walk each day of two miles to the school, and two 
miles back was not enough, and he proposed to walk not 
far, indeed, nor fast, but to walk with Miss Hatty a 
little while before they retired to rest. Miss Hatty 
loved to look up at the trembling dewy stars, now shin- 
ing in glorious brightness, now hidden by fast flying 
clouds, and to hear the whippoorwill and the mocking 
bird, and to breathe the fresh air as it came from the 
mountains. Why should she not walk ? The first 
walks were short. They came back, and sat again on 
the porch, and talked with Mrs. Gilpin as before. But 
each evening the walks were extended, at least, in 
duration, and Mrs. Gilpin, whose heart was still as young 
as that of her daughter, sat on the porch, sat long and 
late, waiting their return. 

When Paul Hunter left his home, he supposed, as all 
young men do, that his neighbors, and the society, espe- 
cially the female society of his own State, were greatly 


CHATTANOOGA. 


321 


superior in intelligence and refinement, and all that adds 
to the natural charms of woman, to that in any other 
State in the Union. Were they not better educated? 
Had they not access to more hooks? Had not many of 
them traveled over half of the earth, and seen the best 
society both of Europe and America ? But he found a 
charm in the quiet, gentle manners of Mrs. Gilpin and 
her daughter, which he had never seen before. They 
were intelligent, but made no display of their learning. 
He discovered it only after he became well acquainted 
with them, and then he had to reflect how much they 
knew, and how only by accident, apparently, they dis- 
closed their knowledge. There •was something — he 
could not tell what it was — so soft, so gentle, so refined 
in their manners, that won upon his heart. He saw 
them, too, in the best position in which they could have 
been placed. Long years of deep grief, quietly en- 
dured, had shed its hallowing influence upon their 
hearts, and as the evening dew fills the ^hite cup of 
the lily, and causes it to send forth sweeter perfume, 
so their sorrow spread an odor of sweetness and sanc- 
tity around them. 

“There are exceptions to all rules,’' said Paul Hun- 
ter, as late one evening he went to his chamber. “I 
fully determined, when I came to the south, to avoid 
the society of ladies as much as I could politely, 
and to guard my heart so well, that no emotion like 
love should enter it for a moment, but I never dreamed 
that I should meet with so charming a lady as Harriet 
Gilpin. I could be happy forever with her. Can I be 
happy without her?” 

He sat by the open window, and looked up at the 
clear, blue sky, studded with brilliant stars, and at the 


822 


CHATTANOOGA. 


moon reposing upon a silver cloud ; the soft wind bore 
on its wings, sweet odors from shrubs and flowers, and 
cooled his brow. He sighed, , and was thoughtful and 
sad. 

Ah ! Paul Hunter, did you not tell your mother and 
sister, and all the girls that were at the large party, 
at your father’s house, the evening before you left it, 
that there was no danger — not the least in the world, 
that you would fall in love with any young lady in the 
south ? And did you not bow to a bevy of laughing 
girls, and say, as you did so, that it was utterly impos- 
sible that you could, for a moment, forget the attrac- 
tions of the ladies of your native State? Retire to rest, 
Paul Hunter, and sleep ofi*, if you can, the day dream 
that fills your heart with pleasure, and may control your 
life. 

Paul had reached — had passed the point in the on- 
ward and deepening march of his affection, at which he 
could concftial his passion, either from himself or from 
others. He was not ashamed of it, and was proud of its 
object. But Harriet seemed to have become alarmed, 
and declined his invitations to take their accustomed 
evening walk. She sat near her mother on the porch, 
and gave no opportunity for such private conversation as 
he had, but a few days before, so passionately enjoyed. 
He could not endure the torture of suspense. Although 
his lips had never said so, he knew that a thousand 
protestations on his part, could not have more fully 
informed her of his love, than his conduct had already 
done. Why now did she shun all opportunities for an 
open declaration ? 

One evening, as they were sitting on the porch, the 
conversation was constrained, and flagged, and at last 


CHATTANOOGA. 


323 


stopped. Paul’s large, blue eyes gazed out on vacancy, 
while the unheeded wind lifted his light auburn hair, 
and let it fall, as it murmured past them. Paul rose 
and invited Hatty to walk with him, in a tone so firm 
and so difierent from any that he had ever addressed 
to her before, that while she trembled at the sound of 
his voice, she could not refuse. They walked on in 
silence, each afraid to speak until they reached the limit 
they had usually set to their promenade, and turned to 
retrace their steps. They still came on silently toward 
the house, and had nearly reached it, when Paul, with 
Hatty’s arm in his, stopped. He was still silent. He 
tried to speak, but his words were incoherent — his ideas 
seemed confused. 

know it all, Mr. Hunter,” said Harriet, “and 
it is useless to say more about it. You need not ask if 
I love you. You already know it. Let us be frank 
with each other, and then we will both relieve our 
hearts, and be happy friends. I love you too well to 
marry you. You have a bright future before you, which 
it would be sinful to overcloud with the sorrows of our 
house. Your path through life will, I have no doubt, 
be one of honor, and usefulness, and renown; but it 
will defeat your high destiny if your fate is blended 
with mine. Forget, then, I beseech you, the passion 
of the'present hour, and the girl who has unconsciously 
inspired it, and be useful and happy !” 

Paul was stunned. “ What do you mean, Hatty ? 
Do you love me, and reject me?” 

“Yes, I do — no love you, and I miist reject you, be- 
cause I love you. If my heart was less sincere, I would 
gladly accept your hand ; but I can not ruin you. You 
are the only gentleman whom I have ever loved or will 


324 


CHATTANOOGA. 


love. I must tell you now what, perhaps, I should 
have told you before, that a deep and abiding curse 
rests upon our house, and has brooded over it for 
nearly a century. Prosperity has bidden us a long 
farewell ! 

‘‘Look at that large oak that stands behind our 
humble dwelling. When we came here it was green, 
and full of life and beauty. Now its top is dead. The 
trees all wither and die that overshadow our dwelling 
as if a pestilence smote them.’’ 

“But, Harriet, I will share your sorrows and misfor- 
tunes, and the burden will be lessened when divided.” 

“No, Paul. All who have intermarried with our 
family, as well as its direct descendants, have withered 
beneath that curse. It came from God; and human 
nature — no matter how strong it may be at the out- 
set, will at last give way, and you will sink as all 
others have gone down one by one beneath its dreadful 
power. I love you, and will not destroy you. 

“ Mother has consented to tell you the whole story, at 
least, as much of it as will interest you, and when you 
shall have heard it from her, you will pity us ; but do not 
— do not — forget us. We will always love you, and in a 
few years more when you will have won the fame which, 
I am sure, awaits you, we will read of you always with 
sad pleasure. Do not forget us, Paul. We will be 
poor, and sad, and unknown, except by a few, while your 
brow will be crowned with honor, and your house filled 
with wealth, your life with usefulness, and your hours 
will all be happy. But don’t forget us then, Paul. 
Think even then, I ask you, of the humble girl who 
loved you too well to tear those laurels from your brow, 
and this wealth from your hands.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


325 


It is useless to talk so, Harriet. I can never be 
happy without you. A home not gladdened by your 
smiles, and honors in which you have no share, and 
wealth that can not be divided with you, would be but 
the mockery of despair. I care not for the old pro- 
phecy you allude to. Energy, industry, perseverance, 
and a determined will, will control events, and conquer 
adversity. Place your hand in mine, and I will have 
nerves of steel, and can conquer devils. 

What is this old prophecy to which you so often 
allude, and that now rises up, and stands between me 
and my happiness. The dream of some fanatic, no 
doubt, who has mentioned events, which would have 
occured, if he had never been born, and their appa- 
rent fulfilment has led some persons to believe that the 
rest is true.^’ 

‘‘He mentioned no specific events. He only laid 
down a principle, and told us that our family is con- 
trolled by it. My mother will relate it to you this 
evening.*' 


CHAPTEE XLIII. 


‘^Mothek/’ said Harriet, as they entered the porch, 
Mr. Hunter wants to hear you tell that old prophecy 
that has so often been referred to in our conversation.’’ 

“ It is late, Hatty, but if you will seat yourself here 
on the porch, I will tell it as far as I can remember it. 
I often heard it from my mother when I was a little 
girl ; she told it to me with tears, and it made a deep 
impression upon me.'’ 

The house they lived in, she said, was a two story 
frame building, with bushes all round it — built in a fine 
grove of forest trees — in the northern part of Fairfax 
county, Virginia.” 

“ My mother was then a little girl — I suppose not 
more than seven or eight years old — her name was 
Mary. It occurred before the Kevolutionary War.” 

My grand-father was a well educated English gentle- 
man, who had come over to America and purchased a 
large plantation, and had many slaves. He was a man 
of great public spirit, and took a warm and active 
interest in all the public affairs of the then colony of ( 
Virginia.” 

I shall not attempt to relate it in the very words 
of my mother, but will do so in a manner that I think 
will best convey to you the impressions on my own 
mind.” I 

They were seated in the porch, and Mrs. Gilpin began : 
‘‘Mary, (that is my mother,) ran into the house and 

( 326 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


327 


said, ^ Oh, mama ! there is such a queer looking gentle- 
man coming up the avenue. He has on a round coat, 
and such a broad hat ; his shoes are covered all over 
Tvith dust, and he has a great long cane in his hand.'’ 

He is probably a Quaker," said her mother. 

I do ’nt know ; he looks like a good man ; he has 
such a sweet, pleasant face." 

Mary was looking out of the window. 

‘‘Mother, he has stopped now by your large white 
rose bush. He has put his cane under his arm, and is 
looking at the roses. He is coming along now. He has 
stopped again, mother, and is watching the humming 
birds that are flying in great numbers around the 
honeysuckle. He is coming up the avenue now, and 
will soon be here, mother." 

“I believe James Marklan lives here." 

“Yes, sir. Please take a seat, sir. He is out at 
the plantation. I will send a servant for him." 

“ I thank thee. I will wait till he comes in." 

Mr. Marklan came. 

“Mr. Woodman, I am delighted to see you. Helen, 
my dear, Mr. Woodman was my schoolmate, and has 
at all times been one of my dearest friends. 

“Our supper will soon be on the table, Mr. Wood- 
man. You are tired and hungry, I have no doubt. 
We will do all that we can to show you how cordial 
our welcome is." 

“Thank thee, James. I have no doubt of thy kind 
purposes, but I must decline thy invitation to break 
bread with thee." 

“Why, Mr. Woodman, will you not stay one night at 
least, with us? It is growing dark, and our nearest 
neighbor lives two miles from us." 


828 


CHATTANOOGA. 


thank tliee, but feel it a duty to decline thy prof- 
fered hospitality. If thou hast a few minutes leisure, 
James, I will be glad to have a brief conversation with 
thee.^^ 

Certainly, sir, certainly. Walk into another room.’' 

I would prefer a walk in the yard, under some of 
the fine trees that surround thy mansion.” 

They walked down the avenue until they came to the 
gate, through which Mr. Woodman had entered an 
hour before, and there, under the shade of a large 
cherry tree, they stopped. Mr. Marklan was silent. 
Mr. Woodman stood silent for a minute, and then said : 
‘‘James, I have a burden on my mind on thy account; 
it has weighed heavily upon me for several days.” 

“What is it, Mr. Woodman? I trust that nothing 
has occurred that has diminished your regard for me ?” 

“My regard for thee, James, is greater to day than 
it has ever been, and I hope will never diminish in the 
least. Thou art the same man that thou hast been ever 
since I have known thee. My concern, is, that 
thou boldest in slavery a great many poor blacks who 
are children of thy Father and my Father, of thy 
God and my God.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Woodman, I have by purchase nearly a 
hundred slaves, and have many also which I obtained 
by my wife. I treat them well. I give them good 
food and clothing, and do not overtask them. I do 
trust that you have not heard from any person charges 
of cruelty against me.” 

“ I have heard nothing to thy prejudice from any 
person. So far as I know, all men speak well of thee. 
But, James, the burden on my mind is, that thou bold- 
est in slavery the children of our God. As slaves, thou 


CHATTANOOGA. 


829 


deprivest them of their free agency, and placest them on 
I a level with the beasts that perish. Thou art not doing 
I unto them as thou wouldst have them do unto thee.’^ 

I ‘^True, Mr. Woodman, I am holding my people as 
' slaves. The whole country — every body who has the 
! means for doing so, are holding slaves. All the Chris- 
tians in the colonies hold slaves. I can demonstrate 
I that it is right to do so.*' 

; I have no commission to argue with thee. My duty 
I is t(t warn thee, that the path in which thou art tread- 
j ing leads to utter ruin. That duty is now discharged. 

! Come, sir, let us return to the house.'* 

‘‘ No, thank thee. I feel it my duty to call to-night 
on thy neighbor.” 

‘‘ Mrs. Marklan will be greatly surprised, indeed, if 
you do not take tea with her. She is expecting you.^* 

‘‘I have not leave to do so. Farewell, James.” 

They parted. Mr. Woodman had mounted the stile 
for the purpose of passing out of the yard, when he 
stopped — stood still for a moment — and then descended 
rapidly, put his cane under his arm, and called to 
Mr. Marklan, “James — James.” 

Mr. Marklan stopped. “ Ah, sir, I am glad you have 
changed your purpose, and will take tea and stay all 
night with us.” 

“ It is not that, James, for which I have returned. 
But my mind is not yet at rest. It has been given to 
me to say to thee : 

He that will save his life shall lose it, and he that 
wdll lose his life for my sake and for the gospel’s, shall 
find it.” 

“This is a moral principle as firmly fixed in the Gov- 
ernment of our Heavenly Father, as the laws by which 
28 


830 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the planets are controlled in their orbits ; and in mercy 
to man He has revealed it to us through the Scriptures 
of truth. If thou wilt now emancipate thy slaves, and 
labor with all thy talents for the emancipation of the 
slaves in this colony — if thou wilt devote thy life to 
this cause — thou wilt be a benefactor to thy race — and 
thy memory will be blessed upon the earth. Before 
the beginning of the next century, all the slaves in this 
colony will be free — -God will bless thy labors and fill 
thy barns with plenty, and crown thy days with hanor. 
Thou hast talents and education and influence among 
men — devote them to the cause of the poor and the needy 
— relieve the oppressed. But, James, if thou dost not 
do it. Remember — ‘ He that will save his life shall 
lose it.' Farewell, James.’’ 

‘‘But, Mr. Woodman, let us reason together.” 

“ I have no commission to reason with thee. The 
whole matter is now between the and thy Maker. 
James, Farewell. I shall never see thy face again 
in this life.” 

“ Good night, Mr. Woodman. I am very sorry that 
you can not remain longer with us, so that we might 
talk this matter over more leisurely. Mr. Woodman 
had passed the stile, and was out of hearing before Mr. 
Marklan had completed his sentence. 

Mr. Marklan returned to his house, and was sad 
and thoughtful. Late in the evening, as Mrs. Marklan 
and himself were sitting out on the porch listening to 
the whippoorwill and the mocking birds in the garden 
and shrubbery that surrounded their fine mansion, and 
enjoying the cool evening breeze, Mrs. Marklan said : 

“What did that Quaker gentleman want with you, 
James? He appears to be a very good man. His fine 




CHATTANOOGA. 331 

face is radiant with love and gentleness, and his man- 
ners are very quiet and refined/’ 

My dear, he came — Prophet from Gon.’^ 

“A Prophet! Mr. Marklan you surprise me. The 
days of prophecy are over: the volume of Revela- 
tion has long since been closed. Prophecies and mira- 
cles ceased soon after the death of our Redeemer.’’ 

‘‘I know that is the current opinion, and but few 
persons dare to assert that prophets exist now, but I 
think that, in all ages and perhaps among all nations, 
God has raised up for himself Prophets among the peo- 
ple, who have made known his will. They have not 
been acknowledged as such while they were living, and 
were denouncing the sins the people most cher- 
ished ; but, after they were gone from this life and the 
events they foretold had taken place, then the peo- 
ple honored their names, and garnished their sepul- 
chres.” 

“ What did he do or say to you that has caused you 
to be so sad? ” 

‘‘He went with me, my dear Helen, down to the 
large cherry tree near the stile, and then taking my 
hand gently in his own, he pressed it warmly, as his 
hot tears fell upon it, and told me that I am living in 
open sin while I hold the children of God as slaves.” 

“ You surprise me. Who ever heard that it is a sin 
to hold slaves? The best people on earth, everywhere, 
in all the colonies, and in the mother country, and in 
the West Indies, hold slaves, and no one doubts that it 
is right to do so.” 

“ I doubt it, my dear Helen, and more than doubt it. 
I am convinced it is wrong.” 

“ Why, Mr. Marklan, you surprise me. Only one 


832 


CHATTANOOGA. 


month since, you laid out four hundred and fifty pounds 
at Alexandria, in the purchase of twelve negroes just t 
from Guinea; and now, after less than half an hour’s i 
conversation with that strange odd looking man, your 
opinions are changed. What course of reasoning did 
the Quaker pursue by which you are so speedily con- 
vinced ? ” 

‘‘He did not reason at all, my dear Helen. He 
warned.” 

“ Who is he, that he shall warn and threaten a gen- 
tleman, and on his own plantation too? ” 

“ He is an humble and faithful minister of Christ, 
my dear wife, without education or property or fame, 
who speaks as the Spirit of God within him moves him 
to speak.” 

“You not only surprise me, you alarm me. Do you, 
who have graduated at Oxford, and with no mean 
honors, do you believe there can be any foundation for 
the pretensions of that peculiar sect, and that God has 
given exclusively to them the gift of prophecy ? ” 

“ No, my dear wife. I do not believe that he has 
given anything exclusively to them, but that in all 
sects among Catholics and Protestants, and perhaps, 
also, in some rare inst nces, even among the heathen, 
he has given to those who will mind the things of the 
Spirit — revelations of his will. This aifords a plain 
and easy solution to many phenomena of mind, gene- 
rally supposed to be incomprehensible, such as dreams 
that come true, impressions of coming events ; think- 
ing of persons before you see them, and meeting 
with them soon afterward. Thinking of persons, 
of whom, perhaps, you have neither heard no^r 
thought for years, and soon after receiving a 


CHATTANOOGA. 


833 


i letter, the first you ever received from them. The 
i Quaker solution — the Scripture solution — that it is 
the Spirit of God in man, by which he is enlightened, 
makes it all simple and plain. Upon any other theory 
it is all a tangled maze in which philosophy loses her- 
self. That sect has brought to light in these times one 
great truth — a truth, however, which has existed in all 
ages, and has been frequently declared for centuries.’* 
What do you intend to do ? I do hope you will 
not dream even of following the counsels of this wild 
and dreamy fanatic.’’ 

I intend to consult with you first. It is due to 
you, as my wife, that I do so.” 

‘‘ That is strange, indeed, that you should consult 
wdth me, or with any being on earth, when you 
think you are commanded by God, himself, through 
this Quaker, to pursue a particular line of conduct. 
But as you wish to know my views, I certainly 
will not withhold them ; and I do think that your 
own wife, the companion of your youth, the sharer of 
all your frrtunes in life, deserves as well to have her 
opinions respected, as the opinions of a foolish Quaker, 
who has intruded himself, unbidden, under our roof. 
My spirit is as good as his spirit: I am as well 
educated as he is. I have read the Bible as well as 
Mr. Woodman. I regard it as highly as he does. Now 
my opinion is, that a more wild, and visionary, and 
reckless folly never entered into any man’s brain 
before. It would utterly ruin all these fine colonies 
to adopt it. The country is as yet nearly unsettled. 
All these great forests, even as far west as the Alle- 
ghany mountains, must be cut down, and plantations 


834 


CHATTANOOGA. 


made where great forest trees now grow. Who is 
to do all this hard work, if not the slaves? There are 
but few persons to be hired as servants here, as you 
well know. The land is so easily obtained from Lord 
Fairfax at two shillings and six pence an acre, that the 
persons who in England are servants, are landholders 
here, and labor only for themselves. 

But it is still worse in your case. You — you alone 
are asked to emancipate all your slaves. Who will till 
your land? Who will labor for me? — I, who have 
never been accustomed to work ; and it is too late to 
learn now. Our girls, too, will soon come into woman- 
hood. Even if the thing should be done at all, this is 
not the time to do it. It will be time enough to think 
about it when our family are settled in life. 

As for the negroes, it would actually ruin them. 
More than half of them are from Guinea, and can not 
speak so as to be intelligible to strangers. Do you not 
see how unreasonable the man is? His message can 
not be from God ; for God is the most reasonable being 
in his universe.'' 

‘‘ I fear, my dear Helen, that I have erred in con- 
sulting with flesh and blood — in listening to any argu- 
ments, even if they fall from angel lips." 

Thank you. Such compliments remind me of the 
days of your courtship." 

‘‘ My dear wife, I am serious and sad, and per- 
plexed. Do you not remember the text, in which it is 
distinctly declared that ‘ God will visit the iniquities of 
the fathers upon the children, to the third and fourth 
generation ? ' " 

‘‘ I certainly do, and I remember too that all our best 


CHATTANOOGA. 


335 


theologians assert that that principle has been abolished 
under the Gospel dispensation. It was a rule for the 
Jews.” 

I am not sure, my dear, that it has been abolished. 
The children and grand children of drunkards and 
spendthrifts suffer now as greatly, perhaps, as the same 
class of persons did under the Jewish dispensation. 
The fact exists now, and I can not see that the rule 
from which it results does not exist. It is a dreadful 
thought, one that makes me shudder, that our descend- 
ants for a hundred years to come, who may be pure 
and good and kind as mortals can be, may suffer — 
deeply suffer, in consequence of the results to which 
we may arrive in our present conference. On the 
other hand, it is pleasant to think that the results of 
our conference to-night may descend in blessings upon 
our children for ages after our very names shall be 
forgotten upon earth. 

‘‘ As I walked up the avenue I did so with a full and 
as I thought a fixed purpose to call up all my slaves 
on the plantation and tell them they are free — to do 
so before I slept, and then as early as possible to- 
moiTQ^j^orning to make out the necessary legal 
paper^^d after that to present myself to Iny friends 
as a candidate for the House of Burgesses and to 
labor in that body for the freedom of the slaves 
in this colony. I feel assured that the measure, if 
earnestly pressed now, will be successful, and that it 
will be the greatest blessing I can confer on my adopted 
country. I feel it my duty to do it.” 

“Your duties will not change or be lightened if you 
will reflect upon them. Do nothing rashly.’’ 

James Marklan rose early the next day, not quite at 
( 318 ) 


S36 


CHATTANOOGA. 


ease, but the vivid impression which was upon his 
mind the evening before, had become dull. He put it 
off another — and another day — till at last he smiled at 
the delusion — as he called it — that a good and an hon- 
est, but mistaken man had caused. 

“I am sure,’" continued Mrs. Gilpin, “ that I am not 
superstitious. I am not a believer in wizards or 
witches, or even in fairies or giants. Nor do I place 
greater reliance upon dreams than people generally do; 
but, still, from the first moment I heard of that pro- 
phecy when I was but a child, I have not been able to 
shake the dreary impression it made upon me, from my 
mind. There is something about it that makes it 
stick. 

My grandfather, as I have told you, was an opulent 
and well educated gentleman. He was honored and 
esteemed by all who knew him. His mansion was of 
course, the seat of hospitality, and the first men in the 
colony were often his guests. He had a beautiful sis- 
ter who came over on a visit from England, with whom, 
I have often heard my mother say. Colonel Washington 
w^as greatly pleased ; so much so, that he sometimes 
rode fifty miles in one day to pass the evenki^n her 
society under my grandfather’s roof. But ^UPlhing, 
I know not what, soon after this sad propjiecy, ^diverted 
his attention to another lady whom he soon afterward 
married. 

I do believe that if my grandfather had set his 
slaves free, and had been a candidate for the house of 
Burgesses, with his heart burning with the wish to 
emancipate all the slaves in Virginia, he would have 
succeeded in his effort to do so, and would have lived to 
an honorable old age. 


1 ' 

!• 


CHATTANOOGA. 


337 


I ‘^But, not long after that, the Revolutionary war 
j broke out, and my grandfather took a decided stand 
I with the Colonists. He became an officer, and fell at 
I the beginning of the war, in the first battle that he was 
in, and at the very beginning of the battle. 

I His father was still living in England, and was so 
greatly exasperated by the part his son took in the 
I cause, that when he first heard it, he altered his will, 
and disinherited him and his family. This left to my 
j grandmother only the plantation and negroes in Virgi- 
nia. She was unskilled in business, and the embar- 
' rassed state of affairs, caused by the Revolutionary 
war then going on, reduced her means so greatly, as to 
make her poor. 

! ‘‘She had but one son, who, afterward, became a 
Quaker, and is the father of my hopeful cousin, Tom 
Gilbert, now, I have heard, a slave auctioneer in 
Charleston — and two daughters — one of them, my 
I aunt Martha, also married an officer who was killed in 
j battle nep the end of the war. I am the only child 
I of my irio^er, and I married a man whose family and 
fortunes were good, and — you know the rest. 

“ WJ^Mv^er any misfortune happens to us, I can not 
but thin^^f that old — old prophecy. Whether it was 
I the dream of a fiinatic, or the message of God, I do 
not know, . But this I do know, that'it seems to have 
I been most signally fulfilled. Misfortunes have fol- 
; lowed — each so closely upon the heels of its predeces- 
I sor — that before the shadow of the one has left us, the 
' lowering front of the other is frowning in our faces. 

“I have prayed to God, most earnestly, to remove 
this curse — to stay his chastening hand, and grant 
us a little of the sunshine of prosperity; but I have 
29 


838 


CHATTANOOGA. 


never felt that in this thing my prayers would be 
answered. I do not know what to do, or which way to 
turn. On every side I see nothing but gloom and 
thick darkness. Nothing behind me but the ground 
wet with our tears — with tears of blood. 

‘‘This is the prophecy, Mr. Hunter, and so far — it 
has been fulfilled. I am glad Hatty has mentioned it 
to you. If she had not, I would have done so as a duty. 
The truth must not be concealed.’^ 



CHAPTER XLIY. 


It is now time that we should revisit the mountains, 
and see after Huldah ; Minna, and Isham and their 
child. 

Contrary to the predictions of old Isham, his little 
son began to get well. The swelling of his mouth and 
nose rapidly went down. 

‘‘Ah!” said old Isham, “I see how it is. The 
child got no blood on its teeth. It’s the narrowest 
escape from death I ever met with in all my practice.” 

They remained a few days only at the hut, to 
which they at first fled, and returned to the cave. 
Isham was compelled to do so, to obtain food for his 
family, as his position at the hut was too far from the 
negroes to enable them to visit him* and return in a 
single night. 

The part of the cave which they occupied now, was 
so far from that in which they had been discovered, 
that they thought themselves safe. No one could ap- 
proach it without being heard long before he reached 
it, and the means of hiding were so great, that it 
would be almost impossible to take them. 

It was a long and narrow room, around which rocks 
were piled in great and irregular masses. The rock 
above them was not much higher than their heads 
when they stood upright, and many small openings 
in the sides of this irregularly shaped apartment, led 
into other and deeper recesses of the cave. 

( 339 ) 


340 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Here, with a small fire of light wood, built at the 
side and under an aperture which let the smoke escape, 
Minna sat all day long with her child by her side, 
sewing — for she could sew although she was blind — and 
humming to her child some hymn she had been accus- 
tomed to sing. 

On a great, grey rock, old Isham placed a burning 
lamp, made of the shell of a large turtle, and filled 
with the fat of such animals as the negroes brought to 
him. The red light from the fire and the lamp cast a 
lurid glare around the cave, and threw all the shadows 
into grotesque and unearthly shapes. 

One day soon after they were established in their 
new hiding place, Minna heard Isham approaching — 
Dis way — dis way — now you ken walk straight.’^ 

Ah, Huldah, I knows that is you by your walk,'^ 
said Minna. ‘‘ Come in and set down on this rock by 
me, and tell me how you is to-day.^' 

Thank you. Aunt Minna, I am well.^’ 

When you was at the hut the other day, you tolled 
me you had bin to England and forin parts.’' 

‘‘Yes, Aunt Minna, we have been, and I wish we had 
stayed there too. Oh! I am so sorry that* we ever 
came back to America." 

“Why so, child, don't you like your own country 
better than any other?" 

“No, Aunt Minna. I like all the countries on this 
earth better than my native land; because in all other 
countries we are treated better than we are here. 
Wherever I have been I was free. Here I and my 
child-— you and your child — are slaves.'' 

“No slaves whar you ’se been?" 

“ No, not one. I traveled all over the country from 


CHATTANOOGA. 


341 


England to Rome, and I saw not one slave in my whole 
journey. Every body is free.’' 

“But they’s mighty poor and oppressed — ain't 
they?" 

“Yes; many — very many — of them are poor, poorer 
than any persons — except the slaves — in America. 
Some of them have no bread, and are clothed in rags, 
and they are oppressed too, but not with such oppres- 
sion as you and I endure. Their children are their own, 
and no man, not even the king, can seize and take them 
away from their parents No man dare do so. They 
are poor, but free. In England, and Ireland, and 
Scotland, every man’s house — no matter how poor 
that man may be — is his castle. One of their great 
men has said: ‘The winds may whistle round it, and 
the lightnings of heaven may enter it, but the king 
dare not cross the threshold of the door.' In other 
countries, too, in Europe, the people are oppressed. 
In Italy, Spain, and Portugal, they have laws which 
forbid the common people from reading the Bible. 
But in this country — in half of the United States — we 
have also laws which forbid the colored people from 
learning to read the Bible, or any other book. And 
what makes the matter still worse is, that the very 
people who sustain such laws, denounce the Catholics 
for doing the same thing.'’ 

I “ Oh ! what blessed countries them must be, Hul- 
' dah! whar a mother don’t have to hide in rocks and 

I 

1 caves, to keep a preacher from taring her own chile 
i from her.” 

“ Compared with the slave States in America, they 
are blessed. There is no country on the face of the 
earth, Aunt Minna — not even among the heathen, 


342 


CHATTANOOGA. 


where men worship dumb idols instead of God — where 
there is so much, and such deep oppression of the poor 
and needy, as in the slaveholding States of America. 
My child is not safe for one hour. Your child is 
safe only as you conceal it from its so called owner. 
Oh, Aunt Minna, it is dreadful for a mother to feel, 
every day of her life, that before sunset her child — her 
only child — may be torn from her arms and sold, where 
she may never see or hear from it again. And thou- 
sands and tens of thousands of mothers live in this very 
condition all over the slaveholding States.’' 

. ‘‘Oh! it is heart breaking, Huldah. What’s we to 
do?” 

“Do?” said Huldah, with great energy. “We may 
fly to the free States, if we can ; but when we get there, 
we may be seized and brought back into greater suffer- 
ing than we endured before we fled. So long as we 
are in the United States — ^no matter in what caves we 
may hide, or what mountains we may climb, or to what 
places we may flee, we are always in danger of being 
dragged back to the power of our masters to submit to 
them as slaves.” 

“ Oh I” said Minna, “ it is terrible; but what ken we 
do?” 

“ Do — do nothing but die. The heaven above us 
is brass, and the earth beneath us iron. When- 
ever we stretch out our hands for help, we grope only 
thick darkness. No one hears our cry I No one heeds 
our sorrows !” 

“ God hears them, Huldah. Why don’t he help us?” 

“I don’t know. It appears strange. He is good, I 
am sure ; but I don’t know why he see’s all things, and 
does not come down and help us.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


343 


I know how it is/^ said Isham, one man hurts 
I you, and another man gives you medicine that cures 
I you ; you get sick, and will die without a doctor to 
I come and give you something to cure you.” 

Yes,” said Huldah, that does seem to be the way 
i that things are done in this life. By man comes our 
miseries, and from God, through man, our relief. But, 

I Oh! uncle Isham, it is so long in coming!” 

‘‘Yes,” said Minna, “ but whar you ’re mighty sick, 

' you’re slow in getting well.” 

Huldah often visited the cave, to which she had ac- 
cess by an entrance near the Indian encampment. She 
spent whole days cheering Minna in her solitude, con- 
doling with her grief and giving her as far as she could — 
hope. 

Their days became more and more perilous. Some 
of the slaves who came at night to Isham, told him 
that Norton was making great preparation for another 
hunt, and had sworn a bitter oath that he would have 
Huldah and her child living or dead. 


CHAPTER XLV. 


The Reverend Jabez Glitters was full of zeal in the 
cause of the whites. ‘‘Is it not/’ he said, “theft and 
robbery to take away people’s property — goods, chat- 
tels, and effects from them, and without their leave or 
license having been first had and obtained ? And is 
not the receiver as bad and as guilty and as wicked as 
the thief himself? And have not these Indians received 
MY property which was stolen, aye, robbed from me— 
even that child. They are, then, but a den of thieves 
and robbers, and as such, and for that reason the den 
should be broken up and destroyed. The cause is a 
just and righteous one, and I do not see or perceive 
how any good and honest man — especially a Christian 
man — can withhold his aid and succor from us. Nev- 
ertheless I judge not — ‘ to his own master he standeth 
or falleth.’ ” 

“Very right, sir,” said Norton. “We have your 
influence in our cause — but your example, sir, will be 
of great service to us — come over and help us. Your 
presence in the field will do us more good than a dozen 
of your valuable sermons. In the Revolutionary war, 
you know, sir, clergymen left their pulpits and shoul- 
dered their muskets, and you also know the happy 
effect of their example upon the troops.” 

“ I do know it, Mr. Norton — my spirit is indeed with 
you — as you may assure all our friends — but at present 
( 344 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


345 


f 

\ 

h 

I 

!l 

I 

I 

1 

i 

J 

,L^ 


;l 


i 

1 


I am writing a book on ^ Sanctification/ and have no 
time to spare/’ 

Lay aside your book, sir, for the present, and show, 
by your own example, that your practice agrees with 
your principles. What cause can be better than that 
of breaking up a nest of thieves and robbers ? ” 

“None, Mr. Norton — none. I will go with you. 
On such occasions a chaplain should always accompany 
the righteous party.’’ 

“ I never thought of that before, Mr. Glitters. It 
really does seem to me now that you have mentioned 
it — that every slave hunt should be accompanied by a 
pro-slavery minister as chaplain for the party. Can not 
your denomination furnish ministers enough for all such 
occasions? ” 

“Believe me, Mr. Norton,’' said Jabez, “our denom- 
ination in these southern states can furnish ministers 
enough for the service you mention — but ‘ Who goeth 
a warfare at his own charges? Who planteth a vine- 
yard and eateth not of the fruit thereof? ’ ” 

“ Yes, sir, they should ba paid for their labor in pro- 
portion to its value. In this case, sir, you are working 
for yourself as w^ell as for me.” 

Oh, Mr. Norton, I do not mean or intend to say or 
to insinuate that. I shall be paid for accompanying you, 
I only lay down and state a general principle which 
should be observed and followed. Some of our younger 
ministering brethren are poorer than I am, and for 
their benefit I call your careful notice and attention 
to it.” 

“ Yes, sir, that is right enough. You will join us, 
then? ” 

“ Yes,” said Jabez, “I will lend and give the people 


846 


CHATTANOOGA. 


the aid and assistance of my influence and example, and 
personal presence in this just and righteous cause.’* 

The Reverend Jabez Glitters joined the party, but 
did not mingle with the men who were engaged in it. 

He sat alone — with his arms crossed upon his breast 
and his legs stretched out before him apparently in 
deep meditation. Some of the men were so hardened 
that in his absence they jested about his ears ; and 
it seems not a little strange that at this time Bill 
McClintick was flrst heard to utter the foul slander that 
afterward cast such a deep shadow over the Reverend 
Jabez Glitters’ life. At first, it is true, he intended it 
only as a jest, but afterward, during four or five years, 
from time to time, he repeated it so seriously that 
many people believed it to be true. Indeed, at one 
time the belief became so general that the congre- 
gations of the Reverend Jabez were greatly diminished 
in consequence of it. 

‘‘Who,” said the people, “will go to hear a calf j 
thief preach. He had better pay for the calf, or | 
restore it to its true owner, before he does so.” 

The next day after Jabez came among the crowd of 
white men who were engaged in the war, a boy ran in 
great haste — “ Mr. Glitters — Mr. Glitters, if you’ll go 
right quick, you ’ll catch old Isham with that child of 
yours. I just saw him carrying it off in his arms.” 

Jabez rose — and four men followed him. He walked 
in great haste, guided by the boy who gave him the 
information, until he came to the steep side of the 
mountain and saw old Isham ascending a mountain on 
the other side of the ravine. Jabez called to him 
stop — stop, thief. Old Isham ran. Jabez redoubled 
his speed and gained rapidly upon him. He outstripped 


CHATTANOOGA. 


347 


! the men -who started with him. Isham ran more than 

a mile — but he was burdened with a load in his arms, 
|! ^ 
|[ and Jabez was lean and light. 

I Isham, at last, finding that he could not escape, 
turned about and faced' hi^ pursuer. The object in his 
arms was wrapped up in an old brown dress, so that 
its face and whole person was concealed. 

This is mine^ sarr — and you 'se got not a bit of 
- right to it — and shan’t have it without you ’re stronger 
than me.’' 

|i “ It is MY property and goods and chattels,” said 
j Jabez, quite fiercely, ‘‘and you are a thief for stealing 
it, and robbing me of it” — and as he said so, he seized 
1 it by the legs — old Isham pulled it — Jabez held fast — - 
jj Let go, said Isham — you’ll straw it, and then it won ’t 
be of no use to you nor to me — let go, I tell you. 
But Jabez would not let go. He held it by the legs — 
while Isham held it firmly by the waist. 

I “ Do you let go,” said Jabez, “ or I ’ll pull its life 


“You can’t do that, sarr — that’s more nor you or 
any preacher in this world can do.” 

Jabez bent forward, tightened his grasp, and made 
a sudden jerk with his whole force. In an instant he 
stood erect with his mouth and eyes wide open — it 
had been torn in two — and out gushed — not its heart 
and bowels — but a bundle of straw. 

“See — see — said Jabez, with a deep groan, the de- 
pravity and corruption of the heart of man — especially 
in niggers.” 

“ You strawed my child,” said Isham — you had no 



Sinner ! ” said Jabez, ‘Hhh is your child — this 
It thing made of old clothes stuffed with straw is yours, 


348 


CHATTANOOGA. 


because you made it and fashioned it. But if it had 
been the one that is clothed with flesh and blood, and 
has a soul — that is mine. That makes the difference. 

It ’s none of yours no more than this one is, sarr.'^ 

Jabez Glitters and Isham were nearly two miles 
north-east from that entrance to the cave wh^.ch was on the 
west side of he mountain. While they were there, Minna 
and her child, accompanied by three Indians, went out 
from the cave at another entrance on the north side 
of the mountain, which was nearly a mile from that 
on the west side, and was unknown to the whites. 
Isham had adopted this plan to divert the attention 
of the whites from them and to aid their escape. He 
contrived to be seen by the white boy who gave Jabez 
Glitters notice of his attempt to escape. 

Every pass in the mountain but one was closely 
guarded by parties of white men, so that it seemed to 
be impossible to escape from the cave. The place not 
guarded was so steep and dangerous that no one could 
get over it except by daylight. The Indians knew it, 
two of them went before as spies, and another car- 
ried the child and conducted Minna along it. Two In- 
dian ponies were concealed in a deep ravine, not far from 
the place of descent. Minna was put upon one of them, 
the other (the black pony of Huldah) was monnted by 
one of the Indians, who took the child before him in 
his arms and started off at a rapid pace for another 
hiding place. The pony on which Minna rode followed 
the other without her guidance. Isham soon joined 
them, and guided by an Indian, they went by easy 
journies to the everglades of Florida. Here Isham 
retired from his profession of doctor and cultivated a 
small piece of land which yielded enough to supply the 
humble wants of his family. 


CHAPTEE XLVI. 


Huldah availed herself of an invitation given by 

* Mr. Rashleigh to herself and her husband to come and 
f find an asylum in his house at any time they should 

' need concealment, and was with her child secretly con- 
veyed, at midnight, to his dwelling. Here they were 
I concealed and safe. 

The alarm turned out to be groundless, or at least 
premature, and after a week Huldah and her child 
returned to her husband’s camp. 

‘‘Let me go,” she said, to him — ^before she went 
to Rashleigh’s — “ to your mother, and stay there until 
I can in some way get out of this country. I can not 
1 breathe its air ; it stifles me. My child will be torn 
i from my arms and made a slave.” 

* “ No — no. Grey Eagle has skulked and hidden his 
j wife and child long enough. He will do so no more. 

! His fathers, for a thousand years, have been chiefs of 

! their tribe, and always scorned to fly from any foe. 

I This land is mine. The foot of the white man shall 
not pollute my soil, nor shall he tear my wife and child 
I from my arms. It does not become Grey Eagle to fly 
I from any foe. He will not fly from men who on his 
own soil are trying to tear from him all that he loves 
on earth. No — no. I’ll summon all my tribe and fight 
till I die, before I’ll step back another inch.” 

Huldah clasped him in her arms. “ My brave hus- 
Uand, I’ll die by your side. Let us face the whites 
( 349 ) 


350 


CHATTANOOGA. 


and fight them even if they stand a thousand to one 
against us.’^ 

Grey Eagle issued his orders and his scattered war- 
riors gathered in arms to his camp. Norton heard the 
notes of preparation and was glad when he heard them. 
Ah, a war will arouse the patriotism of the people, 
and they will vote for the man who leads them to vic- 
tory. 

The Reverend Jahez Glitters said: 

^^Our meeting house leaks much and badly, and 
wants a new covering and roof, and if we get that 
child now it will be of great service. We can then 
erect and build a new meeting house and place of 
worship with the funds and money its sale will produce 
and yield. 

The Star in the West,’' through its editor, Jeptha 
Jothram, and the ‘‘ Tomahawk and Scalping Knife,’’ 
were both for war. War to the knife,” said Jothram, 

against the savages, who are stealing our property.” 

‘‘War,” said John Cassard Burton, “is an evil — a 
great evil — that should be avoided — but when it be- 
comes necessary, as in this case it is — it should be 
prosecuted with vigor for the sake of the peace that 
victory will secure.” 

The next numbers of these papers were filled with 
statements of outrages by the Indians. The settlers, 
they said, were flying from their homes pursued by the 
ruthless' savages, with uplifted tomahawks, waging an 
indiscrimiaate warfare upon men, and women, and 
children. There was no safety but in resistance, or 
what was worse, in flight. The country had too long 
suffered from their outrages — and it was now high time 
that the people should stand and defend themselves. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


361 


The whole country was soon in a state of great ex- 
j citement. Rumors of massacres by the Indians had 
I been spread far and wide, and people who for years 
I [ had slept in peace were now fearful when they went to 
■ bed that before daylight their dwellings would be in 
flames and their wives and children murdered with 
savage cruelty. 

i It was said that a large number of slaves had fled 
from their masters to the Indians, and were making a 
1 common cause with them. 

Things could not remain long in this position. It 
was supposed by all that they were on the verge of an- 
other Indian war. In a few days an Indian was shot 
by a white man. Reprisals were made, and two or 
three white men were shot by the Indians. 

It was said that white men from Georgia were press- 
ing behind the Indians and driving them into the 
mountains. At last the war broke out. Grey Eagle 
I led his forces to battle, and was foremost in every 
I conflict. His voice was heard above the rattling of 
i musketry, and the loud din of war, urging his men on : 

“ Be strong, men. Be strong. We will make them 
fly like rabbits before us.’' 

! At the first onset the Indians drove back the whites, 
and slept near the battle field. 

I But this hasty gathering of his forces soon left them 
Ij without food. Their stores were burned by the whites 
in many places and were wholly insufilcient. 

A council was called and they determined to sue for 
peace if it could be had upon honorable terms. 

“ What do you want from us that you already have 
not? " said Grey Eagle to Norton, who represented the 
whites. ‘‘ You have our lands — you have driven the 


S52 


CHATTANOOGA. 


deer away from us so that we are deprived of food. 
Even the fish have left our waters since you have 
settled among us.” 

Go tell your chiefs that we want the surrender of 
every fugitive slave among you.'' 

“ Surrender my wife, my child. Never — while the 
great Spirit lives.'' 

“ You have other runaAvay negroes harbored among 
you. A child, the property of that good man, Rever- 
end Jabez Glitters, you know is concealed somewhere 
on the Indian lands. Surrender it and make a treaty 
with us to surrender all slaves who may come among 
you. 

Grey Eagle's eyes flashed with savage ferocity. He 
stood erect at his full hight before Norton. ‘‘Hear 
me. I am a chief standing in council — and the Great 
Spirit always stands by the side of the Indian in coun- 
cil, and hears every word he speaks. I have told you, 
that I will not surrender my own wife and my OWN 
child into slavery for the sake of peace. Am I a DOG, 
that you ask me, as chief, to surrender another 
man's child when I scorn to surrender my own? 
Who is Grey Eagle, that you should come to him, as a 
chief, with the wampum of peace in your hand and 
words of insult from your lips? The man is poor and 
has come on my ground to be protected from oppres- 
sion. If I turn my back upon him and refuse to hear, 
the Great Spirit will scorn me, when I call upon him in 
the day of my distress ? No, no. The skeletons of 
my Fathers who have been buried for a thousand 
years, would all rise up and gather around me and 
hiss through their bony mouths, if their son madg him 
self such a DOG. “ Make a treaty that I will not 
30 


CHATTANOOGA. 


353 


feed the hungry — clothe the naked — help the op- 
pressed ! Go ask the white man to do so. I will 
die in battle and be buried in a swamp before I dl do 
it.^^ 

‘‘Very well/’ said Norton, “you may do so. We 
have no other terms to offer.” 

The conference broke up and the truce ended. 

“ I will fight them with my own tribe as long as they 
will stand by me, and if they leave me I will fight the 
whole host with my single arm. Surrender my wife — 
my child! No, never, while the blue sky bends above 
me and the waters flow at my feet. Grey Eagle will 
die, but he will not be a dog.” 

I The whites surrounded the small and comparatively 
feeble band of Indians and confined them to the 
mountains. Food failed them, except the roots and 
fcark of trees, and the very little game and fish that 
their scanty space afforded. 


CHAPTER XLYII. 


Mr. Rashleigh’s house was visited so seldom by 
any of the neighbors ; and himself and his family went 
so little abroad, that it was supposed Huldah and her 
child could be concealed there until the danger of im- 
mediate recapture should be past. 

But Mr. Rashleigh was soon undeceived. Huldah 
had not been there a week before some men were seen 
loitering about the house, by day and at night. • When 
any of the servants walked toward these persons they 
generally went away. At one time, however, one of 
the men enquired of Thomas Jinks whether Grey 
Eagle ever came there. This betrayed the object 
of these spies, and Huldah and her child were removed 
the next night to the cave. She was at Mr. Rash- 
leigh’s about a week. 

While she was there the Indians were less vigilant 
in guarding the cave, and some of the white people 
entered and made, as they supposed, thorough examina- 
tion of it. As they did not find any of the fugitives, 
they supposed that all of them had been removed to 
a safer place. The efforts to recapture them relaxed, 
and many of the white people went to their homes. 
Norton, however, kept up the hunt. While it was 
going on the election took place, and he was chosen 

to represent the people of county. He was, all 

parties said, so patriotic a gentleman, that all political 
( 364 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


355 


differences should be laid aside to secure bis services 
to tbe State. 

Jeptba Jotbram became quite interested in Norton’s 
welfare, so much so, that be not only visited bim very 
often, but brought his whole family over and took up 
bis abode for a time with him. Mr. Norton was, of 
course, delighted, and — before the election — Mrs. Kite 
was delighted with Mrs. Jothram, but very soon after 
that was over, her ardor cooled so fast and so far that 
she said she wondered how cousin Ned could endure 
such society; for her part she had been so much 
accustomed to better that it was quite trying to her 
sensibility to encounter it — but, she added — honors are 
not won without condescension. 

It seems that Mrs. Polly Giles went over to Eash- 
leigh’s to borrow something, while Iluldah was there, 
and saw her. Of course so important a fact could not 
be concealed, and very soon after her visit the system 
of espionage began. 

On the night she was removed Tom Giles happened 
to be passing very late through the woods. He saw, 
he said, two Indians on horseback and a woman on 
another horse. One of the Indians carried something 
before him which Giles thought was a child. They 
were too far from him and the night was too dark for 
him to see who they were ; but he said he knew they 
were Indians by the way they sat on their horses. 

She is in the cave now.” said Norton, ‘‘ and if we 
wi 1 make one more bold and united effort, we can cap- 
ture her.” 

A company of white men was soon collected. The 
Eeverend Jabez Glitters again laid aside his work on 
“ Sanctification,” and went to the hunt. 


356 


CHATTANOOGA. 


Very soon after Huldah ’went to Eashleigh’s, Grey 
Eagle and Corliss went to a distant place for food 
for the part of the tribe that was gathered in and 
about the cave, and for reinforcements. They were 
still absent when Huldah returned. He intended, when 
he returned with food and reinforcements, to make 
his final stand and fight the whites till he died or con- 
quered. 

About one hundred yards south of that entrance, 
•which was on the west side of the mountain, there was 
a deep ravine, along which ran a small stream of water. 
About a mile, up this ravine, where the hill was more 
gentle in its descent, an arch could at times be seen, 
about six feet high and four feet wide, in a solid lime- 
stone rock. This arch was concealed at other times 
by the Indians, who placed piles of brushwood over it. 

After having entered at this place, the visitor went 
in about fifty yards and suddenly entered one of the 
most magnificent apartments ever formed by nature — 
more gorgeous than the palace of an eastern king. It 
was about four hundred yards long, from east to west, 
and about one hundred yards wide. The dome was so 
lofty that it looked like a great white sky, and great 
stalactities stood all around the hall from the dome to 
the floor, like Corinthian columns. 

Huldah divided among the Indians the little store of 
food which Grey Eagle had securely placed for her use, 
and cheered them with hope for two days after her 
return. Still neither Corliss nor Grey Eagle came. 
She sent messengers to hasten them. Two of these 
messengers were taken prisoners, and the third came 
back saying that all the passes were so closely guarded 
by the whites^ that it was impossible to get away. He 


CHATTANOOGA. 


357 


said further that he met a man who told him the whites 
intended to force an entrance into the cave. Huldah's 
lips curled with scorn when she heard this. Let 
them come. I will kill them one by one in the deep 
recesses of this cave with my own arm.” But the 
whites were too discreet to place themselves so fully 
within the power of the Indians, as such a measure 
would have done. 

Huldah could give the Indians no more hope. Some 
of them murmured that it would be better to sur- 
render to the whites than die with hunger. 

Do as you choose,” (said Huldah,) for yourselves 
and your families. As for me and my child we will 
die inch by inch, but we will never be slaves.” 

The famine increased, and strong men who had no 
fear of death on the battlefield, sunk down and with- 
ered in its grasp. Women wept in silence and were 
sick at heart for their children who lifted up their little 
withered hands and with tears streaming down their 
wan faces, cried for food and they had none to give 
them. 

Some of the men and women crouched down and sat 
all day long, with fixed eyes, motionless as statues, 
waiting for death : others gnashed their teeth and 
howled in half insanity and pain. 

Huldah sent messages to all the tribe, that at midday 
she would ofier a sacrifice in the great hall of the cave 
to the God of her fathers, and then the white men would 
withdraw their forces, and the Indians would have 
peace and food. Before the appointed time, she busied 
herself with making arrangements for the sacrifice. 

In the middle of the hall was an altar, about six feet 
long and two feet wide and two feet high, which 


358 


CHATTANOOGA. 


was white and glittering almost as a diamond, formed 
by the dropping of the water. On each side of the 
hall, near the altar, were large openings that resembled, 
in the regularity of their angles and in their hight and 
beauty the gateways of great cathedrals. On the sides 
and above the doors the dropping water had been 
wreathed into flowers and leaves, more elegant than 
the chisel of the most elaborate artizan could make. 

Nature here had been silently and sportively at 
work for ages, and seemed to have decorated the hall 
with all her most wonderful and fantastic beauties. 
The day came, and the Cherokee warriors, preceded 
by their chiefs, dressed in their gayest costume for the 
grand occasion, each with eagles’ feathers in his hair 
and a blazing torch in his right hand, marched in slow 
and stately and solemn procession into the hall. It 
was soon filled, and on all sides boys, women, and 
children made part of the grand assembly. 

They left a wide space around the altar for Huldah, 
and waited for half an hour in profound silence — a 
silence so deep that the dropping of the water in remote 
places could be distinctly heard. 

The warm glow from the torches spread over the 
whole hall a blaze of light, and the stalac titles and 
incrustations on the walls and roof blazed with corus- 
cations of light as the glitter of millions of diamonds. 

Huldah came out of a recess on the south side of the 
altar, and gazed for a moment on the magnificent array 
of chiefs and warriors, and on the dazzling splendor 
of the hall, and then kneeling at the altar, she prayed. 
She arose — cast another lingering glance at the scene 
before her, and went quickly to the side of the hall. 
As soon as the entered the recess and was hidden from 


CHATTANOOGA. 


359 


the eyes of all but God, she burst into a frantic wail 
of grief. She threw herself on the floor and wept in 
agony, and then arose and embraced her child — pressed 
him to her bosom and covered his face and hands with 
kisses. 

She sat for a moment on a large rock, and held her 
child, as far as her arms extended, from her, and gazed 
steadily in his face. She wept, and again embraced 
him, and rose with knit brows and compressed lips, 
and leading him by the hand, went to the altar — her 
cheeks pale as marble and her jet black eyes rolling as 
in frenzy. As she led the child out when he saw the 
blaze of beauty before him, his eye brightened with 
pleasure. 

She led him to the north side of the altar and said: 

Chiefs and warriors of the Cherokees — Huldah thanks 
you, from her heart of hearts, for your kindness to her- 
self and child. But she can no longer see your children 
die with hunger and your warriors slain in battle to 
keep her and her son from the hands of the white 
man. Huldah will make a sacrifice to-day,’’ and in- 
stantly she drew a dagger from her bosom and plunged 
it into the heart of her child. He fell upon the altar, 
and Huldah threw upon his bleeding wound the flag 
of her country. No child of mine shall ever be a 
slave.*’ 

She glided out of the hall through a narrow aper- 
ture that opened from it, and fled along a course of 
winding clefts in the rocks to the west entrance of 
the cave. The mass of failed rocks which Isham had 
removed soon after he came into it, had separated the 
apartments. Huldah had so often visited Minna that 
she had become acquainted with this fact. The Indi- 
ans had not yet discovered it. She adroitly chose 


360 


CHATTANOOGA. 


this passage to escape from the Indians. She ran — 
ran — ran as swiftly as the doe before the hunter. 
Was she running upon death? Right before her 
were troops of men, each kneeling with one knee 
upon the ground with his rifle drawn up to his face, 
and his hand upon the lock. She ran — flew right in 
the face of these rifles, with their barrels glistening in 
the sunshine, and their muzzles bearing directly upon 
her. On — on she ran, heedless of danger till she came 
to their ranks. 

^‘1 surrender to the white men ” 

They cheered from the ranks and passed her behind 
them. 

‘‘ I am your prisoner and now yield myself your 
slave.'' 

Where is your child?" 

‘‘My child? My child is in heaven. Your child 
lies in yonder cave. His soul was mine to guard. His * 
body was yours to oppress and crush." , ^ 

“What! have you murdered your child? " * 

“ A murder has been committed, but look upon your 
own hands and see there the stain of his blood. Look ^ 
into your own soul and feel there the weight of this 
guilt." 

“You lie,'’ said Norton, as he spurned her from him.. 

“ Seize — seize her, men. She is a murderess." 

She had been gone but a minute when Grey Eagle 
and Corliss came in at the south entrance of the cave. 
They saw the child bathed in blood lying still warm ilj 
and bleeding upon the altar. - ^ 

In an instant Grey Eagle comprehended, without 
explanation, the whole scene, and rushed out followed 
by Corliss to pursue Huldah. They ran, each with a 
rifle in his hand, down the rocky ravine, and as they 


CHATTANOOGA, 


361 


were running around the west side of the mountain 
two rifle shots were fired. Grey Eagle threw his arms 
in the air and fell upon his face. The bullet had passed 
through his heart. He was still for a moment and 
then rose to his feet, staggered forward a step or two, 
then again threw his arms wildly in the air, while jets 
of blood streamed from his mouth and nostrils, and 
fell forward. His strong limbs quivered for a moment 
and then were still. 

Corliss fell and never rose again. The bullet had 
shattered his skull. 

The Indians were filled with horror and fled from the 
cave the moment Grey Eagle and Corliss left it. No 
one attempted to hinder their retreat. A great company 
of the whites entered the cave as soon as the Indians 
went away. 

The Reverend Jabez Clitters was there and ran with 
eager haste to the altar, around which a crowd of men 
had gathered. His foot slipped as he approached it, 
and his hands fell upon the warm and bleeding body of 
the little boy and were bathed and clotted with blood. 
He rose, and with the blood dripping from his hands, 
said, I — I — I did not do it. How can a man do such 
a deed as this whose peace flows as a river 

The Reverened Jabez Clitters looked again on his 
dripping hands. Oh ! ” he exclaimed, ^‘the murderess, 
she has killed her own child.” 

The crowd looked with awe on the lifeless body of 
the child, still warm and bleeding before them, and 
then looked at Jabez, and went slowly and sadly away. 

The hunt was over. Jabez went to his home and laid 
down on his bed, saying, as he did so, “ My hands did not 
do it — I am clear. I am free from the stain of this blood.” 

31 


CHAPTER XLYIII. 


The news of the death of Grey Eagle and Corliss 
soon reached Mr. Rashleigh in his secluded dwelling. 
About a month after it occurred he called upon Mrs. 
Gilpin. They sat long in the little parlor in conversa- 
tion — but we will not state all that was said. It is 
enough for the reader to know that the copy of the 
record which had been sent by mail to Mrs. Gilpin was 
brought out, and though Rashleigh said he did not care 
to see it, he was half compelled to read it. 

It is useless now for all purposes,” said Mrs. Gil- 
pin, except to relieve me in part from reproach. 
I know that I should have frankly disclosed the whole 
truth to you, and I feel that I am guilty in not having 
done so.” 

“ Your father, madam, told me that he prevented 
you,” said Mr. Rashleigh. 

Mrs. Gilpin was silent for a moment and then Scid, 
Yes, sir, but I did wrong in suffering him to do so. I 
should have told you my exact position, even if he 
objected to it.’” 

‘^If you erre^h.Mrs. Gilpin, you erred on the side of 
duty to your father.” 

In a few days, preparations were made for the wed- 
ding, and on the day before it was to have taken place, 
a stranger rode up to Mr. Rashleighs. 

‘‘ Is this Mr. Rashleigh, sir ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir.” 

( 362 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


863 


Then, sir, I am the Sheriff of this county and have 
two writs for service upon you. This, sir, is a copy of 
a summons in an action for damages, brought by 
Edward Norton against you for harboring one of his 
slaves. This writ is a capias on an indictment found 
against you by the grand jury of this county, for har- 
boring the same slave, and aiding in her escape from 
Mr. Norton. You are my prisoner, sir.’' 

Very well/’ said Mr. Rashleigh, did harbor and 
conceal the poor woman, and greatly regret that I did 
not do so more effectually. I am willing to pay any 
penalty that may be inflicted for such an act.^^ 

The Sheriff smiled. 

But, sir,’^ continued Mr. Rashleigh, I wish to 
return by to-morrow night, as I have a personal engage- 
ment that must be met.’’ 

The Sheriff smiled again. There is no danger, Mr. 
Rashleigh, from what I have heard of you, that you 
will attempt to escape from the iurisdiction of the 
Court.” 

“Me, escape, sir? No, sir — no, sir.” 

“ I know you will not, sir. If you will meet me 
at nine, to-morrow morning, at the courthouse, I will not 
enforce your further attendance to-day.” 

“Enforce, sir!” said Rashleigh, “ these are strange 
words. I will be at the court house to-Tnorrow at the 
time you have mentioned.” 

“ That will do,” said the Sheriff, “ I shall expect you.” 

Early the next morning IV^r. Rashleigh rode over to 
the court house. All the people there but one were 
strangers to him. He saw a woman seated in a corner, 
and thought, at the slight look he gave her, that he had 
seen her before, but could not remember where. Pre- 


364 


CHATTANOOGA. 


sently Tom Giles came in and stood by the side of the 
woman, and Eashleigh remembered that it was his 
neighbor, Mrs. Polly Giles. 

A young man was walking about the court room 
whom Mr. Eashleigh thought, perhaps, was an attor- 
ney’s clerk. The young man went on the bench and 
the court was opened. 

A man was tried for stealing a powder horn and con- 
victed, fined and imprisoned. Another was charged 
with homicide, and after a short trial acquitted. Mr. 
Eashleigh was surprised at the verdict, as the evidence 
of the man’s guilt seemed clear. Mr. Eashleigh's case 
was next called. 

You are charged in this indictment with harboring 
and concealing one mulatto girl named Huldah — a slave 
of Mr. Edward Norton — and aiding in her escape from 
him. Are you guilty, or not guilty ?” 

I did conceal her for about a week,” said Eashleigh, 

The judge looked surprised. ‘‘Have you counsel, 
sir?” 

“No, sir, thank you, I do not want counsel. The 
facts are stated with substantial correctness in the 
indictment. I do not deny them. I have done what I 
certainly will do again in the same circumstances.” 

“ Are you guilty, or not guilty ? ” said the prosecuting 
attorney. 

‘*1 have just told you that I did harbor the woman 
named in the indictment, whom I have never doubted 
is Mr. Norton’s slave. -I have often seen her at his 
house and engaged in hTs servic^ I am ready,” con- 
tinued Eashleigh, “ to pay the penalty,” and as he said 
so he drew from his vest pocket two or three sovereigns, 
which he held in his fingers. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


365 


Guilty/’ said the prosecuting attorney. 

^‘Certainly,’’ said Mr. Rashieigh as he took his 
seat. 

The clerk made an entry of the word ^‘guilty ” on 
the indictment, and handed it up to the judge. 

The judge read the indictment carefully over, and 
looked at Mr. Rashieigh. Have you consulted coun- 
sel about this matter? ” 

No, sir, I never heard of it until yesterday. The 
matter is too unimportant to take advice upon it, and 
it is undeniable that I did harbor and conceal the lady.” 

The judge paused again and then said: — Stand up 
Richard Rashieigh.” 

Mr, Rashieigh arose. 

You have been indicted by the grand jury of this 
county, and are charged in the first count of the indict- 
ment with harboring and concealing one Huldah, a 
mulatto woman, the slave of Edward Norton, knowing 
her to be his slave. And in the second count of the 
indictment you are charged with aiding and abetting in 
the escape -of the same slave from Edward Norton, 
knowing her to be his slave. You have plead guilty to 
these charges, and nothing now remains for the court 
but to proceed to judgment. We sentence you, Richard 
Rashieigh, to five years imprisonment in the penitentiary 
of this State, and to pay the costs of this prosecution.” 

Imprisonment ! Penitentiary ! ” exclaimed , Mr. 
Rashieigh as he fell back into his seat. 

The clerk called the next case. 

The Sheriff ordered silence in court,’’ and the jailor 
conducted Mr. Rashieigh to prison. 

Tom Giles and his wife went home the same day, and 
the news of Rashleigh’s sentence was soon spread over 
the neighborhood. 


366 


' CHATTANOOGA. 


Mr. Rashleigh’s servants were thrown into the great- 
est consternation. These savage and blood-thirsty 
Hamericans/’ said Thomas Jinks, will murder hall of 
us. This country is not hold Hengland I can tell you, 
where they would no more think of sentencing a gen- 
tleman to the penitentiary for his ospitality than they 
would for praying to God. This is a barbarous and 
honly alf civilized country, and I ’ll get hout of hit as 
soon as I can.” 

They all sat, in the evening, around the fire and wept 
for their kind master, and determined to visit him in 
prison, and then return, as soon as possible, to England. 
They visited him the next day, and after he had paid 
them their wages, they bade him a sad adieu. In a 
few days they sailed from New York for England, and 
landed in safety in their old home, glad to leave 
the land of liberty forever. 


CHAPTEE XLIX. 


Paul Hunter did what he could to console Mrs. 
Gilpin and Harriet ; but their sorrows were too great to 
be comforted. 

‘‘That old — old curse/^ said Mrs. Gilpin, “still pur- 
sues us with steady and unfaltering pace. All our 
happiness is blasted in its bud. Oh, how gladly would 
I lie down in the grave, and let the red earth cover me 
as a mantle of roses. 

Paul Hunter could not restrain his indignation. 
Whenever he met any man in the road, or in the field 
near the school house, or at church, he was loud in 
denouncing the conduct of Norton and in his praise 
of Mr. Bashleigh. 

“ Mr. Eashleigh,'’ said one man to him, “ may be 
right in some things, but he should not have harbored 
that girl. She is Mr. Norton’s property, and he had 
no right to do anything that might hinder him from 
obtaining the possession of her.’^ 

“She is not his property,’’ said Prul Hunter, indig- 
nantly. 

“ He bought her at auction in Charleston, sir, and 
has a good bill of sale for her. I have seen it myself.” 

“ That may all be so,” replied Paul; “indeed, I have 
no doubt of it; still she is not and never was his pro- 
perty. No man can have property in the flesh and 
blood and body and soul of a human being. God 
did not make human flesh and blood to be property.” 

( 367 ) 


368 


CHATTANOOGA. 


‘‘Then, sir, our whole system of slave holding is 
mongr ^ 

“ It is, sir. It is tyran^ — not law — and every man 
who sanctions it, directly or indirectly, by open declara- 
tion, or by silence when he ought to speak — by his pre- 
cept or by his example — takes the side of the oppressor 
and the tyrant.’’ 

“You are indiscreet,” said the man to Paul, “such 
language can not be tolerated in this State.” 

“Tolerated, or not tolerated, I will speak as I think. 
The whole affair is disgraceful to a civilized country. 
I had rather be in prison with Mr. Rashleigh, than at 
large with his oppressors.” 

“ Well, sir, if you are not more careful in your speech 
you will share Mr. Rashleigh’s imprisonment, and, per- 
haps, fare worse than he does.” 

Paul pressed his suit now, when all hearts were in 
such deep distress, with redoubled earnestness. “It 
was hot a prophecy,” he said to Hatty, “ as your mother 
stated to me, but only a principle which, perhaps, may 
apply to your family, and to thousands of other fami- 
lies. Whatever misfortunes may come, I would rather 
share them with you than live without you.” 

“ Paul ! — Paul, you do not know what you ask. 
Calamities such as ours may seem light to those who 
have never felt them. But all have withered, and all 
will wither, beneath their power.” 

“ I will take no denial Hatty. You have told me all. 
I know the bitterest and the worst — but do not condemn 
me to bear a greater curse than you have ever endured — 
the curse of existence without you.” 

“ My mother,” said Hatty, “ does not approve of it.” 

Paul seized her hand. “It is mine, Hatty. I will 
be happy.” 


CHATTANOOGA. 


369 


Mrs. Gilpin remonstrated with Paul, but yielded to 
his importunities, and the day was named for the mar- 
riage. But, after a few days of happiness, one morning 
when Paul went to his school he found a crowd of men 
in the house. He went in and bowed to them, when a 
low, thick set man, with a red face and thick neck, 
shut the door and locked it. The whole group laughed. 

We have you now,” said one of the men. 

‘‘Yes, sir, I am here,'^ said Paul. 

“You are our prisoner, sir.” 

“Prisoner! for what?” 

“For making too free a use of that tongue of yourn.” 

“ Too free a use of my tongue ? I have told no false- 
hood about any person.” 

“Lie or truth, makes not a bit of matter to us. 
You Ve come among us, and has slandered our institu- 
tions, and has been trying to make the niggers rise 
and kill all the white people.” 

“ I have not. The man who says so is guilty of 
falsehood.” 

“ Come, young man, this is rather bold talk. You ’re 
our prisoner, and we mean to duck you in the creek, 
and then , to lead you out of this State, and if ever 
you’re caught back here again we ’ll hang you.” 

“ Let ’s hang him now,” said the red faced man 
who had locked the door, “he’s only a yankee.” 

“ Hang him- — hang him,” said two others. 

“No,” said the first speaker, “we agreed what to 
do when we came here. Let ’s do all we agreed to do 
and no more.” 

“Men,” said Paul Hunter, “listen to me. There 
are fourteen of you, and I am alone. It is cowardice 
thus to overpower me by mere brute force. We do 


370 


CHATTANOOGA. 


not treat you so when you come to my native State.*^ 
‘^It's no use talking, young man — not a bit of it. 
We come here to punish you for your free use of 
your tongue, not to argue the matter with you. If 
you have any arms surrender them at once.^' 

I have none — I never carry them — I always look 
upon men who do so as ruffians.’^ 

Young man, do not provoke us. Your insults 
will do you no good and much hurt. You must 
leave this State forthwith. Are you ready to do so?'^ 
‘‘Yes,” said Paul, “as soon as I shall go to the 
house where I board and pay my bill, and pack up my 
clothes.’^ 

“We wdll not allow that. There is something due 
you for teaching school ; we will collect it and pay 
oflF the bill. As for your clothes, the suit you have on 
is plenty good enough for such as you.’^ 

Paul’s eyes flashed with anger. The red faced man 
laid his hands upon him, two others came to his aid, 
and Paul Hunter was thrown upon the floor, his 
hands and feet tied with ropes, so tightly, that they cut 
into his flesh. 

We draw a veil over the indignities inflicted by the 
rufiians upon the person of Paul Hunter. Resistance 
would have been but madness. He was overpowered 
by greatly superior force — by men half-intoxicated and 
brutalized with passion. 

They carried him to the border of the State and dis- 
missed him with fresh indignities and threats that they 
would kill him if he ever returned. The men who had 
conducted him out of the State, shouted as he left them, 
and Paul Hunter returned to New York a sadder and a 


Wiser man. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


371 


Don’t you think,” said one of the men to the others, 
that the people in the Free States will at length resent 
such treatment ? ” 

No, they dare not do it. One of us can whip four 
of them — and — so that they can make money — they 
don ’t care about such things.” 

This fresh blow fell with stunning force upon Mrs. 
Gilpin and Harriet. They could not weep. They sat, 
pale and motionless, and silent, for half an hour after 
they heard it. Mrs. Gilpin then said. “ Oh, my 
daughter, I did hope the curse would end with me. 
But it pursues us from generation to generation.” 

Harriet found relief in tears — while Mrs. Gilpin 
moved noiselessly about the house as attentive to her 
duties as though nothing had occurred. It was only by 
looking at her calm features and into her deeply sunken 
eyes — that the intelligent observer could see that the 
heart that beat below them was more than half crushed. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 


The weary, weary days passed slowly away, and 
Brandon was still within the prison limits. Old debts 
which he had forgotten, or which had been paid, were 
again and dishonestly brought forward and sued on. 
Their accumulated sums seemed more than enough to 
exhaust the slender remains of his once large estate. 
He was sad and gloomy. His future had no bright 
star to cheer him. He no longer wished to leave his 
room, but sat there thoughtfully and alone all day, and 
at night, with a sad and heavy heart, retired to rest— 
the rest of forgetfulness — more sweet than sleep. 

But time brings all things — even lawsuits — to an end, 
and at last the day came when his case was to be tried 
and justice done to the parties. It was tried and the 
claim against him was greatly reduced, but still the 
residue which he was ordered to pay greatly exceeded 
his means. No other resource was now left to him 
than to make an assignment of his property — of all 
his property — including his little farm in Tennessee — 
for the benefit of his creditors. It was done, and 
houseless, and homeless, and penniless, Brandon was 
discharged. 

An old friend came forward and offered him a small 
loan of money, which was tearfully accepted, with 
thanks that choked him as he uttered them, and then, 
after bidding adieu to his nativ| State, and to the kind 
friends who were near him, he started on his long and 
( 372 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 373 

weary journey home. No — he had no home now— to 
his family in Tennessee. 

He reached there in safet}^ and was welcomed — only 
as one can be welcomed whose heart is filled with gloom 
and grief, by others whose hearts are as sad. 

His story was soon told. They were to leave their 
humble home — how soon he could not tell — and go — 
they knew not whither. 

‘‘ We have but one resource left us now, my dear 
Martha, and I regret even to think of it. You must 
sell your slaves. The money which you will obtain 
for them will be enough, with care, to keep you and 
Harriet as long as you live, and as for me — I shall not 
want any person’s help long.” 

‘‘Sell our people, father!” 

“Yes, my child — there is no help for it. I know that 
you love them and dislike to part from them, but what 
can we do ? We have no other meahs of obtaining 
bread.” 

“ But, father, I have grown up under the care of 
aunt Kitty. She nursed me when I was a child, and 
has been a mother to me.” 

“Well, perhaps you can reserve her and sell the 
others.” 

“ Sell her husband — old uncle Peter, and her chil- 
dren and grand-children’s father? Separate her whole 
family from her?” 

“ What else can we do, Martha ? ” 

“ Trust in God, father.” 

The old man, wearied by his journey, soon retired to 
rest, and Mrs. Gilpin and her daughter sat up long and 
late to talk over their sorrows. 

“Mother, I am willing to do anything in my power. 


374 


CHATTANOOGA. 


to aid you and grand papa in earning an honest living. 
I can teach music, and French, and drawing, and those 
things, which I have learned only as accomplishments, can 
now be made the means for our support. We are poor, 
but I can work, and will work, day and night, and I am 
sure you will have no reason to fear but that I can earn 
enough to keep us from want. We must not sell our 
people. It will kill me, mother — I do believe it— 
if we do so.'^ 

‘‘lean not — will not sell one of them,’^ said Mrs. 
Gilpin. “We have had calamities enough ; and I do not 
think that to add to our sins will diminish our misfor- 
tunes. I have drunk so deeply and so often from the 
cup of sorrow, but I dare not press it to another's lips.'* 

“ What will you do, mother ? ” 

“ I will place temptation out of my way. My pur- 
pose is fixed now. I will not trust myself. My 
character may change, and I may not be able to 
resist temptations that I do not know of. I will, my 
dear, emancipate all my slaves to-morrow.'’ 

“ To-morrow, Mother ? ” 

“Yes, as early as possible, to-morrow morning, I will 
execute deeds of emancipation for them. It shall be 
out of my power to do evil. 

“We will not have a cent in the world, then, mother ; 
but I do most heartily approve of your purpose. My 
heart feels lightened of its load of grief already." 

“And so too does mine." 

“Well, mother," said Harriet, “I have just now 
found out a new source of happiness. In the midst 
of the deepest gloom, do some noble, generous, and 
just action, and the heart will be relieved of half its 


CHATTANOOGA. 


375 


Early the next morning, the colored people were 
collected in the little parlor and seated, while Mrs. 
Gilpin wrote the necessary papers and handed them to 
the older members of the family. 

“Free — Missus — all of us people free?” 

“Yes, Peter, I have set every one of you free. You 
are at this moment as free as I am, and may God bless 
and protect you.” 

“ Thank you. Missus. Press de Lord. Press de 
good Lord, and you too, Missus. We ’re all free at 
last. We’ve been praying for freedom to come all our 
lives. Now it’s come, so onexpected too. ’ We warn’t 
looking for it jist now.” 

“ Do n't speak so loud, uncle Peter. Your old master 
is very tired by his long journey from Virginia, and 
I. wish him to rest as long as he can this morning. Do 
not disturb him." 

Kitty wiped her eyes with the corner of her check 
apron. Some of the younger ones sobbed aloud, and 
after a moment of warm thanks, the happy friends of 
Mrs. Gilpin withdrew. 

They went to the kitchen, which was so far from the 
house, that their voices could not be heard, and there 
collected in a group around old Peter, who, seated in a 
chair, was explaining to them the cause of their unex- 
pected blessing. 

“ I know 'd it was a coming, but I must confess it 
corned a little sooner than I expected. The way of it 
is jist this— young Master Paul, he ’s been a talkin’ a 
good deal lately to Miss Hatty. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — all 
them long walks of nights wid her leaning on his arm, 
aint been for nothin’, I tell you,” and the old man 
laughed so heartily, that the whole group around him, 


876 


CHATTANOOGA. 


even the baby in its mother’s arms laughed also, as 
loudly as they could. 

I tell you people here, and you young gals, ’spe- 
cially, what don ’t know much, that when a nice young 
gentleman is a courtin’ a young lady, and she gits in 
love wid him, that he has considerable influence wid 
her.” 

Peter crossed his hands and laid them in his lap, and' 
was silent for half a minute. 

Yes, I tell you,” said Peter — looking very wise — 
that when a gal is in love, the young fellow what she 
loves, has a pretty considerable power over her, ’spe- 
cially to get her to ’mancipate.” 

But, uncle Peter,” said one of the girls. Miss Hatty 
didn ’t set us free — it was Miss Martha that did it.” 

Oh ! you get away, gal — you don ’t know nothin’. 
When a young lady gets in love wid a nice young gen- 
tleman like Masser Paul dere, why de lady’s mother 
love de gentleman most as much as de lady do her- 
self. It’s all de same ting, in course — all right at 
last.” 

Do you think, uncle Peter, that they ’ll get married 
to one another, now that he ’s drove out of the State? ” 

Do I think so ? — why how you. do talk. I ’ve told 
you — you don ’t know nothin’ — nothin’ at all. You’re 
too young and child-like. Do your uncle think they ’ll 
get married! No, he don’t think nothin’ about it — he 
knows it.” 

Brandon came down to breakfast, later than usual, 
sad and feeble. Mrs. Gilpin told the servant that 
waited on the table, to stay in the kitchen until he 
should be called. 


CHATTANOOGA. 877 

The ladies were cheerful — were too happy to conceal 
their joy. 

I am glad to see you all so cheerful, this morning, 
daughter. This is the first day for nearly a year that 
I have come down to a meal, where the table was sur- 
rounded by friendly faces. Your happiness lightens 
my own heart. Have you always been so while I was 

O 

away : 

“ Oh, no, father. This too has been the most pleas- 
ant morning we have had for years. You are with us 
now, and I hope we will be happy. But there is an- 
other cause for joy, to-day, of which I may as well tell 
you at once. I have just emancipated all my slaves.^' 

The knife and fork dropped from Brandon’s hands, 
he trembled and turned pale. . 

‘‘Emancipated your slaves, Martha ! — We are utterly 
ruined. Your act is one of downright madness. Who 
has advised you to take so rash a step ? ” 

“Father, I formed my determination to do so last 
night. No one advised me. If I had sought advice 
from any one, it would have been from yourself, in 
preference to all others.” 

“ Why, then did you not ask me ? ” 

“ Because I was resolved to do it, and it is not fair 
to ask advice after my mind is fully made up and my 
purpose formed.” 

“What shall we do, Martha? We are utterly 
ruined. These slaves were all the property that stood 
between us and beggary.” 

“Trust in God.” 

“ And waste our estate, Martha ? ” 

“ No, father, ‘ Trust in the Lord and do good, and 
verily thou shalt be fed.* ” 

32 


378 


CHATTANOOGA. 


The old man sighed and was silent. 

In a few days an agent came from Virginia to sell 
Brandon's farm. He called upon the family, and was 
police and kind, and said that he regretted the incon- 
venience he would cause them, but, he added, You 
know what my duties are ; I can not avoid them." 

We do know it," said Brandon, “ in what way can 
we aid you to discharge them ? " 

“At what time," said the agent, “shall I state in 
the advertisement that possession will be given to the 
purchaser? " 

The little group, Brandon and his daughter and 
grand-daughter, were silent for a moment. 

“ What is the greatest length of time you can give 
us, sir," said Mrs. Gilpin. We have not yet provided 
another home for ourselves." 

“ Forty days." 

“ Thank you — that will be enough." 

“ Yes, sir," said Brandon, thirty days will do. Let 
us have the thing over as soon as possible. I am 
tired of suspense and perplexity. I want repose and 
peace. 

The day of sale soon came, and Mrs. Kite was 
among the few persons who came to the house. 

She sat in hei* carriage, and although urged by Mrs. 
Gilpin to alight and come into the house, she refused 
to do so. 

“ I am delighted, Mrs. Gilpin, with the resplendent 
beauty of your location, and the salubrity of the atmos- 
phere around it. It appears to be favorable to longevity. 
I do believe that if I resided here my days would be 
so protracted that I should be an octogenarian." 


CHATTANOOGA. 


379 


^^Yes, madam, it is, I believe, a very healthy place, 
the mountain air is fine and bracing.^’ 

The sale commenced, and Mrs. Kite was the first 
bidder : her bid was about one-fourth of the value of 
the land. The crier went on slowly. He had but one 
sale to make that day. Other bids were made and 
Mrs. Kite, after long pauses, outbid them all. The 
property was knocked down to her. 

“Look at these papers,’’ she said, as she handed a 
package to the auctioneer, “and you will see from them 
that I am the person for whose benefit this sale has 
been made.” The auctioneer carefully examined them. 
“ I see, madam, that you are the owner of the claim on 
•which the suit in Virginia was brought, and under which 
Mr. Brandon was imprisoned. It is all right, madam. 
I will make the deed for the property to you, and take 
your receipt.” 

“ Yes, sir, I did purchase that claim, and that suit 
was instituted and conducted for my use and benefit. 
I have made a handsome speculation by it. My hus- 
band, Burl Kite, Esq. — now deceased, informed me, 
in his lifetime that something could be made from it, 
and after his death, I undertook it. The place is mine, 
you say.” 

“ Yes, madam,” 

“ Call over at my nephew’s, Edward Norton, Esq., 
and we will have the necessary papers executed. 

“ I will, madam — I will be there this afternoon.” 

“ Drive home, Ned, by the most frequented thorough- 
fare, as soon as possible. I am both fatigued and 
hungry.” 

The carriage drove off, and Brandon now first learned 
who his unrelenting creditor was. 


380 


CHATTANOOGA. 


“Burl Kite — I knew the fellow,” he said. “He was 
four years an overseer on one of my plantations. He 
cheated me, and I dismissed him. He always was a 
knave. And this Norton is his nephew. Well, there 
are strange changes in this world. The overseers in 
the south and their descendants are rapidly supplant- 
ing all the old families and engrossing the wealth and 
honors of the country.’^ 


CHAPTER L, 


Mrs. Gilpin told her father of her reconciliation with 
Mr. Rashleigh, and that he insisted that the marriage 
should take place soon, and thus give him a better right 
than he then had to assist the family ; and of the sad 
fate of Mr. Rashleigh. 

^‘Do you really believe, Martha, that Mr. Rashleigh 
did harbor that slave of Mr. Norton’s?^' 

“ I have no doubt of it, father. And I have heard, 
too, that he stated in court that he harbored her. Of 
course, if he did it, he would not deny it, and would 
not have said he did so unless the fact warranted the 
assertion.^’ 

“ I am really surprised, Martha, that so intelligent 
and virtuous a gentleman as Mr. Rashleigh should 
have been guilty of such conduct. He is an English- 
man, it is true, and can not be supposed to concur with 
us in our views of such things ; but his judgment is too 
sound to permit me to doubt that he is not well aware 
of the necessity and propriety of yielding prompt and 
full obediance to the laws of our country."’ 

‘‘ I do not know, father, by what course of reasoning 
Mr. Rashleigh has reached the conclusion that his con- 
duct is proper. I am sure, though, that he has exam- 
ined the matter with care, and that his conduct is the 
result of his judgment.” 

( 381 ) 


382 


CHATTANOOGA. 


The next day Mr. Brandon rode over to visit Mr. 
Rashleigh in prison. He found him composed and sad. 

Brandon informed him that he had assigned all his 
property to a trustee for the benefit of his creditors — 
that his farm had been sold — his daughter had, from a 
'womanly impulse, emancipated all her slaves — and in a 
few days they would have to leave their little home and 
return to their friends in Virginia. 

‘‘ My dwelling is empty, Mr. Brandon, as all my 
servants have returned to England. You will confer a 
favor on me if you will remove to it and take the care 
of the farm.^* 

I would not have mentioned our sad condition to 
you, Mr. Rashleigh, if I had thought it would have 
called out this kind offer.’^ 

Do not think of it for a moment, Mr. Brandon. I 
did not know until nov/ the full extent of your misfor- 
tunes ; but I intended to insist upon your family taking 
my house while I shall be absent from it. It is 
well furnished, and the farm, when cultivated by your 
recently emancipated people, wdll, I hope, produce some 
return for your care.” 

I am very sorry, Mr. Rashleigh, to find you in so 
sad a condition, and hope you will be released in a few 
days.” 

‘‘ I have reason to think so too, Mr. Brandon. When 
I first heard of this affair I supposed it to be a trifling 
matter, (like suffering a road to be out of repair,) and 
which could be adjusted by a small fine ; and as I kne\v 
that I did the act charged, I did not think it worth while to 
take advice upon it. But since I have learned how severe 
the penalty is, I have called an able counselor to my 
aid, who assures me that the proceedings are in some 


CHATTA^sOOGA. 


383 


parts so defective that the judgment will be set aside. 
If so, I have no reason to doubt that I will join you in a 
few days at my house, and then, sir, with your approba- 
tion, I will be made your happy son-in-law.’' 

You have my approbation — that has long since been 
given.” 

Very soon after Mr. Kashleigh was taken to the jail 
he wrote to some of his relations and friends, informing 
them of his position. We shall give extracts from but 
two of his letters. 

After giving to Mrs. Penhall, his sister, a full 
narrative of what he had done, and the result of it, 
he says — 

‘‘ I think I hear you, my dear sister, exclaim as you 
read, ‘This is the result of my brother Richard’s repub- 
licanism.’ Not so, my dear sister. My imprisonment 
here is not the result of republicanism, but of its oppo- 
site — of tyranny. I know that republicanism is right, 
with the same absolute certainty that I know that the 
Bible is a revelation from God. The law, ‘ Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself,’ is the basis of all repub- 
licanism. The reason of the law is that your neighbor's 
rights are equal to your own. But a country that 
makes slavery its principal care is not republican — 
simply, because slave-holding is despotism. Such a 
government, if democratic in form, is worse in its prac- 
tical results upon the people’s rights than the despotism 
of a single tyrant. Because, when the responsibility of 
such a government is divided among thousands, no one 
of all these thousands feels his part of the responsi- 
bility : — while, if it was all concentrated in a single 
sceptre, the man who held it would feel its full weight. 

Richard Baxter and William Penn, and others, in 
England, were prosecuted for preaching the gospel. I 


884 


CHATTANOOGA. 


am convicted for practising it. This may seem strange 
in a State whose organic law contains a full guarantee 
for religious liberty. But this guarantee is either mis- 
understood or disregarded. In this country all such 
guarantees are, at present, of no value. Sin, in all 
ages and among all nations, has ever formed an alliance 
with the State, and clings to it for support as a poison- 
ous vine clings to the oak, and kills it as it does so. 
This country is not exempted from this universal law. 
Their national sin is slaveholding, which is now entwined 
and enfibered through its every department. 

They resist a union of Church and State, but support 
one of Sin and State. They think the one destructive 
to liberty ; but seem, by their conduct, to think the 
other essential to their happiness. 

I am now a victim of this alliance, as thousands 
of men, in all ages and countries, have been its victims. 
I regret it, but cannot murmur.^' 

He wrote to a friend in France the next day. After 
giving a narrative of the causes that led to his imprison- 
ment, he added : — 

^‘We are both of us republicans from conviction and 
from principle. I still, notwithstanding my adversity, 
have full and unshaken faith in the general cor- 
rectness of my principles. But I have erred in sup- 
posing that slavery and republicanism can co-exist under 
the same government. It is impossible that they can 
do so. The vital principle of republicanism is libeety. 
Slaveholding is despotism. A slaveholding State is 
but a community of petty tyrants, each man supporting 
all the others in their wrongs. To do so, they must 
first crush out the vital principle of liberty; not the 
liberty of the colored man only, but the personal and 
civil and religious liberty of all. 


CHATTANOOGA. 


385 


What remedy, you ask, can reach these evils ? There 
is but one — the reformation of the whole people, by 
the preaching of the gospel of Christ. 

“ When the people are corrupt, they will elect corrupt 
men to represent them in all departments of their gov- 
ernment. They have, of course, the wish to do so, and 
as the power is in their own hands they will do it. 

Still, I do not despair even of this country. The 
ever watchful providence of God protects each man in 
it, as if he stood alone in the world ; and He, and He 
alone, can control the destiny of nations. My HOPE, 
my EAITH, my confidence is in Him. Oh ! my dear 
friend, how cheerless this world would be if no God 
reigned over it. The patriot would look at the future 
without hope, and at the past — but I will not weary 
you. Adieu.’’ 

In a few days Mr. Brandon and his family removed 
to Mr. Rashleigh’s dwelling, and in less than a month 
after that time, the judgment against Mr. Eashleigh 
was set aside for some error in the indictment, and he 
was discharged from his imprisonment before he entered 
the gloomy walls of the penitentiary. 

The next day after his return Mrs. Gilpin and Mr. 
Rashleigh were married, and in a few days thereafter 
they started, accompanied by Mr. Brandon and Harriet, 
for England. 

The recently emancipated slaves accompanied them 
as far as New York, and then were generoulsy supplied, 
by Mr. Rashleigh, with money to begin to live in 
freedom. 

‘‘Ah, Miss Martha, sunshine come at last,’’ said old 
Peter, “ It ’s a long lane that’s got no turn to it, and a 
33 


886 


CHATTANOOGA. 


dark niglit that’s got no day-light coming. The sun 
come out at last from behind the cloud and shine bright 
now. Dem long walks under de big trees in de ole yard 
in Tennessee not all for nuffin. You jest put a letter in 
de post office ; I ’ll take it for you, and see df Massa 
Paul aint here too quick. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ole Peter 
know somethings as well as anybody.” 

He took a letter to the post oflBce, and Massa Paul 
came ‘Hoo quick,’' just as Peter had predicted. He 
invited the party to his father’s house, in the interior 
of the State, where they remained a few days, after 
which Mr. Eashleigh and his bride, accompanied by 
her father, set sail for England. Harriet’s intended 
journey thither was postponed, as her husband, Mr. 
Paul Hunter, could not then sail with the party. 

When the party returned to New York old Peter 
soon found them. ^‘Ah, Miss Harriet — married at 
last. Well, I 'se not s 'prised at dat ; I knowed it 
would be so. Ole Peter, he knows somethings jist as 
good as white people. Sunshine come. Miss Martha — 
daylight come at last. Ah ! Peter knowed it all, long 
nuflF ago. Miss Martha good to us, and de Lord good 
to her. De Lord likes people that 's good to poor 
folks, and takes care of em.” 


CHAPTEH LI. 


The Reverend Jabez Glitters never recovered from 
the severe shock he received at the time he fell upon 
the bleeding body of the murdered child. He would sit 
up at times in his bed, with his long grey hair hanging 
upon his shoulders, and his shirt sleeves pulled up half 
way to his elbow, exposing his long bony hands and his 
thin and spider like arms. 

Bring me a basin of water, Martha, and let me wash 
my hands — there is blood upon them. Bring me a 
towel and wipe them — wipe them. Wipe them hard — 
I can 't get the blood off. It sticks. The smell of it 
makes me sick. I — I — I did not kill that child. Oh 
no — I did not kill that child. Its own mother murdered 
it. She killed it. Bring me a towel quickly : the smell 
makes me sick.'' 

Sister Martha Glitters brought a basin of water and 
washed and wiped his hands, and J abez held them before 
his face as he laid back on his pillow. Ah ! they are 
clean now — clean — so white. Then he started again, 
raised his white form in a sitting posture, and cried out, 
Bring me more water. The blood still sticks to them. 
Oh — Oh — I can not wash it off." 

After months of slow decay a messenger was 
hurriedly dispatched over to Mr. Norton's with the 
request to come quickly for Mr. Glitters was dying. 
Jeptha Jothram was at Norton's when the messenger 
arrived. He had been intoxicated for a week, and was 
( 387 ) 


S88 


CHATTANOOGA. 


taken to Norton’s to be sobered. Norton and Jothram 
rode over to Mr. Glitters’ house. Jeptha Jothram was 
pale and weak, his hands and knees shook as he entered 
the dwelling. 

Brother Cray was seated by the bed-side, talking to 
Jabez Glitters. “Brother Glitters, your peace flows as 
a river, don ’t it ? ” 

“A river — a river. Yes — yes — I see — I see a river 
full of blood. The west bank of the river looks like a 
jagged cliff of brimstone — bare, and towering up 
toward the copper-colored sky, which is half concealed 
by dun colored, motionless clouds, and the west bank, 
in places, burns with blue flame. It is not Jordon— 
oh, no — it is not — J ordon. A child is floating on the river, 
it has soft, brown hair, which floats on the water. It is 
dead. I — I — I did NOT kill it. My hands are clean. 
Look at them,” and as he said so, he held his hands 
before his face, drew them closer and closer, and ex- 
tended his fingers. “ Yes — no — no, they are not clean. 
Blood — blood is on them. Wipe it oflf — wipe it off. 
Will no one hear my dying request? Oh! do wash it 
off — it grieves and afflicts me.” 

Brother Cray rose from his seat to get the basin, and 
Jeptha Jothram took his place and held the hand of 
the dying man for a moment in silence. He then 
sprang to his feet in a fit of delirium, with his eyes 
dilated and glazed : 

“ Drive it off* — there — there it is. It is sitting on his 
breast. The skeleton — the skeleton of a child. It is 
kneeling on his breast. Both its fleshless hands are 
round his neck. Its fleshless fingers grasp his throat — • 
tighter — tighter. It is choflking him to death. Listen — 
listen. It is whispering in his ear. Drive it off*. Drive 


CHATTANOOGA. 389 

it away — away — away. It says you — ^YOU murdered mb. 
Look — there — there— it is gone.” 

■They looked — and the mantle of the Reverend Jabez 
Glitters had fallen upon the shoulders of brethren in the 
ministry, who still wear it, and are vain of the distinc- 
tion it confers upon them. 

When the men were preparing the body of the 
Reverend Jabez Glitters for the grave, they found a 
piece of thick paper over his heart, on which was 
written, in his own large, awkward, hand- writing, the 
words ; — 

HOLINESS TO THE LORD, 

AND 

HOLD ON TO THE. NIGGERS.” 

Sister Martha Glitters, the next day after the funeral, 
sewed it to a piece of paste board and surrounded it 
with a fringe made of orange colored yarn, and hung 
it under the miniature of her departed husband, over 
the mantlepiece. 

It was so much admired by the ministering brethren 
who visited the house after her husband’s departure, 
that she made patterns of it in samplers, on white 
ground, with orange colored letters and fringes to the 
samplers. She derived great comfort from this pious 
labor for more than a month after her husband’s decease. 
The ministering brethren received these tokens of their 
sister’s regard with gratitude, and, it has been said, 
wear them next their hearts, especially when they come 
to preach in the free States. She made one for Brother 
Gray; but that was worked on a wide blue ribbon, 
and with red silk letters. Brother Gray received it 
with warm thanks. 

It is said that many of these samplers have been sent 


390 


CHATTANOOGA. 


to Doctors of Divinity and learned professors in Col- 
leges in the Free States, and that these gentlemen 
wear them nearest their hearts, as charms to preserve 

the unity of the church, and the peace of Zion.’' 

But it is difficult to believe that intelligent gentlemen 
in this country are so superstitious as to believe in SUCH 
amulets ; and Mr. Strong feels, as Tom Giles did toward 
the young man in Memphis who told him that his neice, 
Mrs. Dr. Webler, ‘^were painted.” 

If some of these Doctors and Professors would sub- 
mit to be searched, it might be the means of settling 
public opinion on this question, by disproving or proving 
the charge. Will not some of their friends insist upon 
the application of this test to these gentlemen? 

Part of the yarn with which Sister Martha Glitters 
worked these samplers must have been badly dyed, for 
very soon the words ‘^holiness to the lord” faded 
away and became invisible — the color in the remainder 
of the sentence grows brighter with age. 

Jabez was buried, and a funeral sermon wms preached, 
in which his saint-like virtues were extolled. 

A week afterward Jeptha Jothram wrote the editorial 
notice of his death, already mentioned, and religious 
newspapers puffed him up to heaven. But among his 
virtues, by an odd omission of all the winters and 
preachers, no mention w^as made of his zeal in the slave 
hunt. 

The Reverend Jabez Glitters, Jr., placed a marble 
monument over his father’s grave, with these words 
deeply engaven upon it : 

“he rests from Ills LABORS AND HIS WORKS 
DO FOLLOW HIM.” 


CHAPTER LII. 


It would be ungallant to close this book without some 
further notice of sister Martha Glitters. About a year 
after the death of her husband, she said to Lucretia 
Crownly — the daughter of a poor widow, a member 
of the church, whom she had adopted,’* a girl 
about fifteen years of age : 

“Letty, I want you to come and pull every grey 
hair out of my head. When brother Cray was here 
yesterday, I saw him looking at my hair, and I ’m sure 
he noticed them.” 

Why, la ! aunt, if I do so, your head will be as bald 
and as red as the old turkey gobler’s.” 

No, it won ’t, Letty, Pull them out, every one of 
them.” 

While Letty was at work, sister Martha Glitters said : 

‘‘Letty, I’ve noticed that brother Cray don’t talk as 
much as he used to about sanctification and slavery. 
When he talks about slavery he never mentions sancti- 
fication, and when he talks about sanctification he don ’t 
mention slavery. He puts them more widely apart,” 

“ Yes, aunt, you know when he was here last week, 
he said that Dr. Shirkwell disapproves of joining them 
in the same conversation or sermon, and he said the 
same thing week before last when he was here.” 

“ I have some scruples of conscience, myself,” said 
sister Martha Glitters, “ about holding slaves when the 
price is as good for them as it is now.- I half believe 

( 391 ) 


892 


CHATTANOOGA. 


it ain’t right to hold slaves, and so I’ve made up my 
mind to sell Sam.” 

Sell little Sarny, aunt ! I pity the poor boy. He 
ain ’t more than twelve years old, and it will he so hard 
to take him down south.” 

‘‘ Yes, Letty, but brother Cray says he likes to see a 
lady have a regular set of teeth, and mine are quite 
irregular, and greatly decayed. Half of them, too have 
been pulled out. I saw that dentist last week, who is 
going about the country, and he sa3^s be can ’t make 
me a full set of the best kind under two hundred dol- 
lars. I must have ’em: brother Cray, I’m sure, will 
admire them.” 

The grey hair was all pulled out of the lady’s head, 
and in two months afterward she had a full set of new 
teeth, but the dentist who made them must have been 
a novice in his art, for they were very yellow and too 
long. 

About the same time little Sam, the boy who waited 
on the table at the great dinner, when Dr. Shirk - 
well Avas there, disappeared: He was never seen in 
that neighborhood afterward. 

Not long afterward, brother Cray and sister Clitters 
were in the same parlor, to be united in marriage. The 
bride was one foot taller and nine years older than the 
bridegroom. After the ceremony he led her weeping 
to her seat. Brother Cray smiled delighted wdth his 
bride. 

My dear,” said brother Cray, ‘‘why do you weep ?” 

“Oh, brother Cray, I can’t but think of my former 
husband, he was so Holy. ” 

As she pronounced the word, the upper row of her 
teeth became loose, and fell into her mouth, nearly 


CHATTANOOGA. 


393 


strangling her. The company gathered round her, 
and, after some excitement, and with great effort, the 
teeth were drawn up from her throat and laid in 
her lap. She sat still for a moment and was then 
led weeping into an adjoining room, by brother Cray. 

Norton gained the suit which he brought against 
Rashleigh, for damages for harboring Huldah, and sold 
his plantation to pay the debt. Mrs. Kite purchased 
it with money that Norton placed in her hands to do 
so — and soon afterward conveyed it to him. 

‘‘ Cousin Ned,’^ said, Mrs. Kite, ‘‘you have been going 
to the State Legislature long enough. I want you to 
take Mary to Washington City. Get yourself elected 
a member of Congress.^’ 

“ Oh, aunt, that’s easier said than done. Thousands 
of men would like to' be members of Congress who 
never can be.” 

“ Edward, all things yield to determined purpose. If 
you will go to Congress you can.’’ 

‘‘ How so, aunt ? ” 

“Why you have only to enlist the aid of two or 
three more newspaper editors of your party and the 
thing is done. Make large donations to the cause, Ned, 
by the way of supporting .the press. Do it for the sake 
of the principles involved in this great contest, and 
then when your friends shall bring you out as a candi- 
date, these editors will be predisposed to give your 
claims a favorable consideration.” 

Norton was elected to Congress, and was for a long 
time one of the most popular men in, the country. 
He knew no higher law than the constitution, and of 
course his oath to support that instrument had no grip 


394 


CHATTANOOGA. 


upon his conscience. He, therefore, was clamorous for 
it when it suited his purpose, and trampled upon it 
when it stood in his way. 

He bullied the northern members who differed from 
his opinions, and flattered those who agreed with him : 
Boasted of his blood and birth, although he was the son 
of an overseer, and the little education he had was be- 
stowed upon him as a charity. 

He deserted his principles and his party whenever it 
seemed his personal interest to do so, and returned to 
them with unabashed front when his interests were pro- 
moted by it. He allied himself with all parties in turn, 
and deserted each when they were in the minority. He 
was a great and successful Politician. 

Many years after these occurrences, as Norton was 
standing in the lobby of the legislature of a neighbor- 
ing State, cheerfully conversing with a friend, an alter- 
cation sprung up between two members in the body. 
A blow was struck and a pistol fired. The ball missed 
the object at which it was aimed and pierced Norton’s 
heart. 

It is but an act of simple justice to the gentleman 
who fired the unlucky shot, to state, that ho was very 
sorry for the accident. He wrote a very handsome 
apology to the widow of Mr. Norton, so beautiful in its 
language and so deep in its pathos that Mrs. Norton 
said : ‘‘ It ith tho thweet and affecting that every body 
ought to read it.” 

‘‘Yes,” said her mother, (Mrs.^ Kite,) “it does jus- 
tice to the memory of an eminent and distinguished 
Patriot.” 

Some people talked of having the gentleman who 
fired the unluckky shot taken up for examination be- 


CHATTANOOGA. 


395 


fore a magistrate. But others said it was only an ac- 
cident that could not be helped now. Mr. Norton 
was dead, and why persecute the unhappy living ? 
The apology he made was so beautiful — so full of just 
thoughts and fine sentiments that it shewed the man’s 
heart was good : why then disturb him ? 


CHAPTEE LIU. 


Huldah was seized and bound — and, after a few days, 
sold to a trader who took her to Louisiana. She was 
sent to work in the cotton field with the other slaves, 
and toiled in the sunshine and in the storm. Her mind 
gradually lost its power, and the once high-spirited 
and noble woman sunk down nearly to the level of her 
associates. They, however, could laugh and sing and 
be gay. Her days and nights were always sad. A 
deep sorrow forever brooded over her with its raven 
wings — sorrow that knew no moment of relief — sadness 
that deepened into gloom and thick darkness. 

The Sabbath morning came with its first pencilings 
of early dawn, and all was still as if the earth was 
listening to the morning song of angels, slowly float- 
ing unseen above it. The wind bore on its wings the 
fragrance of orange blossoms and odors from a thousand 
flowers. Myriads of birds sung sweetly in the trees, 
and all nature seemed rejoicing before God. But no 
sweet Sabbath bell invited Huldah to the sanctuary. 
No bloom of flowers, nor melody of birds, nor glad- 
ness of nature, lifted, for a moment, the load of 
sorrow frorh Huldah’s broken heart. Years — weary, 
sad, and cheerless years, rolled slowly on — like the 
never-ending cycles of eternity, and still she toiled on 
and ever on, and lay down at night on her bundle 
of rags — too weary to rest — too sad for refreshing 
sleep. 


( 896 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


397 


She lingered one day behind the other slaves. Her 
weary form seemed feeble with premature old age, and 
was half bent to the earth, and her long hair, white 
as the cotton she was picking, lay upon her shoulders. 
She lingered yet more: 

“Move on, old Huldah,^' said the overseer: Her 
pace quickened for an instant, as if the words gave her 
new strength, and then she flagged again : “ Move on, 

old Huldah and as he said so, the thong of his whip 
lash fell heavily upon her shoulders. She sprang, with 
a shriek, into the air — staggered forward, and fell upon 
her face, and — Huldah’s sacrifice was over. 


CHAPTEE LIV. 


As Mr. Strong was walking down Broadway, New 
York, jostled by the crowd, he heard footsteps behind 
him, and some one laid a broad hand on his shoulder. 
He turned, and — 

‘‘How aire you. Squire? I’m mighty glad to see 
you,” said Tom Giles, as he seized his hand. 

“ Why, Giles, I am surprised and delighted to meet 
you here — and there’s the badger in the basket on your 
arm.” 

“ Yes, Squire, it ’s here yet ; but, poor thing, it ’s 
never got over that crick in its neck; it’s crooked 
yet, and I ’m afeard will be till it dies.” 

They went to the hotel at which Mr. Strong put up, 
and Giles gave him an account of his wanderings. 

“ Squire, arter I left you in sich a hurry, near Chat- 
tanooga, I went down to Nashville, by the railroad, and 
then down the Cumberland river, to Smithland, and 
then to Paducah. I shewed the varmint at all these 
places, and went up the Ohio river to Cincinnati — there 
I fell in with a man that had a chicken cock that had 
horns. Me and him went in cohoot for a time, and 
arter a while I broke the partnership, and started out 
agin, on my own account. I went to Cleveland and to 
Buffalo, and to Albany, and then to New York. There I 
fell in with a man that had a marmont for show — it is 
a squirrel with a monkey’s head, or a monkey with a 
squirrel’s body, jist as you have a mind to call it. 

(^ 98 ) 


CHATTANOOGA. 


899 


Well, him and me went into partnership. He had a 
hand organ and ground the music out, and I showed 
the varmints. One day we were about ten miles back 
of New York, and he were playing the hand-organ 
and I were waitin’ for people to come. We were back 
of a great garden with a high brick wall round, it and 
a small door about the middle of the wall. The door 
opened and two nice pretty little boys come out, one 
about six year old and the other about five, and they 
ran back and called a lady to the gate. She took a 
good look at me and walked down five or six steps and 
come up close to me. She stretched out her little 
white hand and said, I believe this is my old neigh- 
bor, Mr. Giles.” 

I cotch her hand and looked at her, but, says I, I 
can ’t call your name.” 

Ah, Mr. Giles, I see you have forgotten me.*^ 

Yes, indeed, I has.” 

Don ’t you remember Harriet Gilpin, Mr. Bran- 
don’s grand-daughter?” 

Yes,” says I, and then I tuk another look at her. 

‘‘ Come in, Mr. Giles ; and she tuk me and the man 
vrhat was my partner into the house and gave us both 
a nice dinner. 

She married that schoolmaster, Paul Hunter, Squire, 
and the little boys is her grand-children. That Mr. 
Hunter is a great man thar. Squire. If you would 
hear his neighbors talk about him you would think 
that he were most as great a man as Gineral 
Jackson, and he^s had high oflSces and is mighty 
rich, and they live in grand style, equal to my 
rich kin folks in Memphis. I axed her about her 
mother. She married that Englishman, Eashleigh, 


400 


CHATTANOOGA. 


and went to England and lived thar in grand style, 
and died only two or three year ago.’^ 

Giles returned soon afterward to his home in Ar- 
kansas. After he did so, Mr. Strong received a 
letter with the mysterious mark, ‘‘ free tosGiles,'^ 
which seemed afterward to have been erased and a 
postage stamp placed upon the letter. It was from 
Giles, who informed him that his neighbors, ^‘for want 
of a better,” as he modestly said, had elected him a 
member of the legislature, and that there was some 
talk of their getting up a petition to the President to 
have him appointed post master at Noble’s post office, 
White county. State of Arkansas. 


THE END. 


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Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process 
Neutralizing Agent; Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 

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■jBHKKEEPER 

PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, INC. 
Ill Thomson Park Drive 




rncocnvAM iwi^ i c^ni 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 
(412)779-2111 




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